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MICHAEL  REESE 


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THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS 
OF  CHILDHOOD. 


BY 


BERNARD  PEREZ. 


EDITED   AND   TRANSLATED    BY 

ALICE     M.     CHRISTIE,' 

Translator  of  "  Child  and  Child  Nature,"  etc.,  etc. 


WITH    AN   INTRODUCTION    BY   JAMES    SULLY,    iVI.A., 

Author  of  "  Outlines  of  Psychology,"  etc. 


STEREOTYPED 


NIVERSIl 


SWAN 


EDITION. 


LONDON : 
SONNENSCHEIN     & 
PATERNOSTER    SQUARE. 

1889. 


CO., 


P47 


^^pr/ 


PREFACE. 


Four  years  ago  this  book  appeared  to  be  a  fortunate 
hit,  ofiferingas  it  did,  though  on  the  most  simple  scale, 
a  study  of  infant  psychology.  The  character  of  the 
work  arose  naturally  from  the  line  of  study  I  had 
planned.  I  had,  in  fact,  set  myself  to  follow  out 
in  little  children  the  gradual  awakening  of  those 
faculties  which  constitute  the  psychic  activity,  so 
abundantly  differentiated,  so  delicate  and  at  the  same 
time  so  powerful,  of  the  adult  human  being.  It  was, 
no  doubt,  this  intention — possibly  a  somewhat  pre- 
mature one — of  systematizing  a  class  of  observations, 
of  which  hitherto  only  rough  sketches  had  been 
attempted,  which  gained  me  the  encouragement  of 
philosophers  and  educationalists,  both  in  France  and 
abroad.  Thus  then,  while  endeavouring  to  improve 
upon  the  modest  beginning  which  had  at  first  won 
me  their  sympathy,  I  could  do  no  better  than  keep 
to  my  original  method.  My  canvases  were  already 
sketched  in  and  accepted:  I  have  merely  endeavoured 
to  draw  them  a  little  better  and  to  fill  them  in  more. 


IV  PREFACE. 

to  render  facts  and  interpretations  of  facts  clearer  and 
more  precise. 

With  regard  to  the  facts,  either  simply  described  or 
dramatized  in  the  form  of  psychological  anecdotes,  I 
have  carefully  sorted  and  re- arranged  them,  discard- 
ing a  certain  number  which  seemed  to  me  of  little 
importance,  and  adding  a  good  many  others,  either 
taken  out  of  my  own  journals  of  observations  or  bor- 
rowed from  other  people,  but  all  of  them  verified 
by  myself.  I  thought  also  that  I  should  be  readily 
forgiven  for  having  interpolated  a  few  pages  of  psy- 
chological observations  taken  out  of  my  book  on 
Education  from  the  Cradle^  which  seemed  here  in 
their  natural  place,  and  which  will  be  replaced  in  the 
other  book  by  considerations  of  a  more  specially  peda- 
gogic nature.  Both  books  will,  I  think,  have  gained 
by  the  exchange. 

As  to  the  interpretations  of  facts,  I  have  striven  to 
be  guided  by  the  spirit  of  the  experimental  method. 
If  I  have  sometimes  been  happy  in  my  observations 
and  judgments,  it  is  to  this  method  that  the  honour 
is  due;  the  mistakes  and  omissions  are  my  own 
share.  At  any  rate,  no  one  of  the  systems  of  philo- 
sophy, which,  under  different  names,  have  more  or 
less  exactly  adapted  themselves  to  the  experimental 
method,  is  responsible  for  my  errors.  Although  I 
have  my  preferences  and  my  tendencies,  I  belong  to 
no  school.     I  find  myself  most  often,  it  is  true,  quot- 


PREFACE.  V 

ing  from  a  Darwin  or  a  Spencer,  but  I  am  none  the 
less  glad  to  do  so  from  Mme.  Necker,  de  Saussure, 
and  Guizot,  from  Messrs.  E.  Egger  and  L.  Ferri, 
when  they  can  give  me  the  fruits  of  real  experience. 
I  do  not  ask  of  facts  and  ideas  for  their  label  and 
trade-mark  before  admitting  them  to  my  humble  psy- 
chological domain  ;  it  is  enough  for  me  that  they  are 
facts  well  observed  and  well  described,  enough  that 
they  are  clear  and  judicious  ideas. 

It  is  in  such  a  spirit  that  I  would  have  my  readers 
deal  with  my  essay  on  infant  psychology ;  letting  all 
thoughts  of  a  particular  system  be  secondary  in  their 
minds,  as  they  have  been  in  my  own.  I  have  often 
pondered — trying  to  turn  them  to  account  myself — 
those  most  pithy  words  of  Mr.  F.  Pollock's  :  "  And  as 
science  makes  it  plainer  every  day  that  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  a  fixed  equilibrium,  either  in  the  world 
without  or  in  the  mind  within,  so  it  becomes  plain 
that  the  genuine  and  durable  triumphs  of  philosophy 
are  not  in  systems  but  in  ideas."  ^ 

If  some  few  good  ideas  are  found  scattered  in  my 
book,  I  beg  my  readers  neither  to  see  or  seek  for 
anything  else  in  it. 

Bernard  Perez. 


Spinoza  :  His  Life  and  Philosophy^  p.  408 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PACE 

I.    The  Faculties  of  the  Infant  before  Birth  .        .       i 
II.    The  First  Impressions  of  the  New-born  Child     .      7 

CHAPTER   II. 

I.     Motor  Activity  at  the  Beginning  of  Life    .        .11 

II.     Motor  Activity  at  Six  Months        .        .        .        .16 

HI.     Motor  Activity  at  Fifteen  Months         .        .        .20 

CHAPTER   III.  • 

I.     Instructive  and  Emotional  Sensations  .        ,        -23 
II.    The  First  Perceptions 32 

CHAPTER   IV. 

I.     General  and  Special  Instincts         ....     44 
II.     Special  Instincts 49 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Sentiments 60 

CHAPTER   VI. 

I.     Intellectual  Tendencies 82 

II.     Veracity 86 

III.  Imitation  y/ 89 

IV.  Credulity 94 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Will 99 

vii 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAGE 

The  Faculties  of  Intellectual  Acquisition  and  Reten- 
tion. 

I.    Attention no 

II.     Memory 121 

CHAPTER  TX. 

The  Association  of  Psychical  States. 

I.     Association 131 

II.    Imagination i47 

III.  Special  Imagination 152 

CHAPTER  X. 

On  the  Elaboration  of  Ideas. 

I.    Judgment 164 

J.I.     Abstraction 178 

/in.     Comparison 190 

IV.  Generalization i97 

V.     Reasoning 210 

VI.    The  Errors  and  Illusions  of  Children  .        .        .  224 
VII.     Errors  owing  to  Moral  Causes        ....  233 

CHAPTER  XI. 
On  Expression  and  Language,  Parts  I.,  II.,  III.     236,  241,  251 

CHAPTER  XII. 

The  ^Esthetic  Sense  in  Little  Children. 

I.    The  Musical  Sense 265 

II.     The  Sense  of  Material  Beauty        ....  270 

III.  The  Constructive  Instinct        ,        .        .        .        .  276 

IV.  The  Dramatic  Instinct 278 

CHAPTER  XIIL 

I.     Personality.— Reflection.— Moral  Sense        ,        .  282 
II.     The  Moral  Sense .  2S7 


INTRODUCTION. 

Among  the  many  new  fields  of  investigation 
which  modern  science  has  opened  up,  there  is 
none  which  is  more  inviting  than  that  of  infant 
psychology.  The  beginnings  of  all  things  are 
full  of  interest,  as  we  see  by  the  amount  of 
inquiry  now  devoted  to  the  origin  of  human 
institutions  and  ideas,  and  all  the  various  forms 
of  life.  And  the  beginnings  of  a  human  mind, 
the  first  dim  stages  in  the  development  of  man's 
God-like  reason,  ought  surely  to  be  most  in- 
teresting of  all.  And  infancy  has  its  own 
peculiar  charm.  There  is  an  exquisite  poetry 
in  the  spontaneous  promptings  of  the  unsophis- 
ticated spirit  of  the  child.  So  far  removed  at 
times  from  our  one-sided  prejudiced  views,  so 
high  above  our  low  conventional  standards  are 
the  little  one's  intuitions  of  his  new  world. 
Childhood  has  its  unlovely  and  unworthy  side 
no  doubt.  Still  I  cannot  think  that  any  close 
observer  of  infancy  ever  thoroughly  believed 
in  its  total  depravity.  Possibly,  indeed,  to  a 
perfectly   candid    mind    its   fresh  and    striking 


IV       THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

observations  about  things,  which,  though  often 
bizarre,  are  on  the  whole  thoroughly  sound 
and  wholesome,  are  always  apt  to  suggest  the 
pleasing  fancy  of  Plato  and  Wordsworth,  that 
the  little  new-comer  brings  from  his  ante-natal 
abode  ideas  and  feelings  which  lie  high  above 
the  plane  of  earthly  experience.  However  this 
be,  no  thoroughly  open  and  unspoiled  mind  can 
fail  to  learn  much  that  is  good  from  a  close 
study  of  childhood.  This  is  the  period  when 
very  ordinary  mortals  display  something  remark- 
able. Perhaps  indeed  no  healthy  child  has 
ever  failed  to  present  some  new  mental  or 
moral  phenomenon,  to  impress,  amuse,  or  in- 
struct, if  only  the  appreciating  eyes  had  been 
there  to  see. 

But  it  is  not  with  the  poetic  side  of  infancy 
that  we  are  here  specially  concerned.  We 
have  to  look  on  the  opening  germ  of  intelligence 
from  the  colder  point  of  view  of  science.  Not 
that  the  savant  need  be  insensible  to  the 
aesthetic  charm  of  his  subject.  A  botanist 
ought  perhaps  to  feel  something  of  the  rich 
store  of  loveliness  which  lies  enclosed  within 
the  tiny  confines  of  a  wayside  flower.  Scientific 
curiosity  often  leaps  into  full  and  vigorous  life 
under  the  genial  vivifying  influence  of  a  glow- 
ing admiration.  And  a  man  who  has  a  keen 
eye  for  all  the  pretty  and  humorous  traits  of 
infant  life  is  all  the  better  qualified  for  a  close 
scientific    observation    of   its    processes.     Only 


INTRODUCTION.  V 

that  in  this  case  the  aesthetic  interest  must  be 
subordinated  to  the  scientific. 

The  science  which  is  specially  concerned 
with  the  baby  mind  is  Psychology.  It  is  only 
the  psychologist  who  can  pretend  to  record 
and  interpret  all  its  strange  ways.  And  on 
the  other  hand,  the  domain  of  infant  life  is  of 
peculiar  interest  to  the  psychologist.  True,  he 
can  study  in  other  ways  the  manner  in  which 
the  human  mind  behaves,  and  the  laws  which 
bind  together  its  sequent  movements.  He  has 
a  mind  of  his  own,  which  is  directly  accessible 
to  his  internal  vision ;  and  there  are  the  minds 
of  his  friends  and  acquaintances,  about  which 
he  can  know  a  good  deal  too,  always  provided 
that  they  are  quite  open  and  confiding.  Still, 
he  cannot  dispense  with  the  young  unformed 
minds  of  infants.  His  business,  Hke  that  of 
all  scientific  workers,  is  to  explain  the  complex 
in  terms  of  the  simple,  to  trace  back  the  final 
perfectly  shaped  result  to  the  first  rude  begin- 
nings. In  order  to  this,  he  must  make  a  careful 
study  of  the  early  phases  of  mental  life,  and 
these  manifest  themselves  directly  under  his 
eye  in  each  new  infant. 

Some  of  the  gravest  questions  relating  to 
man's  nature  and  destiny  carry  us  back  to  the 
observation  of  infancy.  Take,  for  instance,  the 
warmly-discussed  question,  whether  conscience 
is  an  innate  faculty — each  man's  possession 
anterior   to  and  independently  of  all   the  ex- 


VI       THE   FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

ternal  human  influences,  authority,  discipHne, 
moral  education,  which  go  to  shape  it ;  or 
whether,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  a  mere  outgrowth 
from  the  impressions  received  in  the  course 
of  this  training.  Nothing  seems  so  Hkely 
to  throw  hght  on  this  burning  question  as  a 
painstaking  observation  of  the  first  years  of 
life. 

This,  however,  is  not  the  whole  of  the  sig- 
nificance of  infancy  to  the  modern  psychologist. 
We  are  learning  to  connect  the  individual  life 
with  that  of  the  race,  and  this  again  with  the 
collective  life  of  all  sentient  creatures.  The 
doctrine  of  evolution  bids  us  view  the  unfolding 
of  a  human  intelligence  to-day  as  conditioned 
and  prepared  by  long  ages  of  human  experience, 
and  still  longer  cycles  of  animal  experience. 
The  civilized  individual  is  thus  a  memento,  a 
kind  of  short-hand  record  of  nature's  far- re- 
ceding work  of  organizing,  or  building  up  living 
conscious  structures.  And  according  to  this 
view  the  successive  stages  of  the  mental  life  of 
the  individual  roughly  answer  to  the  periods 
of  this  extensive  process  of  organization — vege- 
tal, animal,  human,  civilized  life.  This  being 
so,  the  first  years  of  the  child  are  of  a  peculiar 
antiquarian  interest. 

Here  we  may  note  the  points  of  contact  of 
man's  proud  reason  with  the  lowly  intelligence 
of  the  brutes.  In  the  most  ordinary  child  we 
may  see  a  new  dramatic  representation  of  the 


INTRODUCTION.  Vll 

great  cosmic  action,  the  laborious  emergence  of 
intelliorence  out  of  its  shell  of  animal  sense  and 
appetite. 

Yet  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  interest 
here  is  wholly  historical  or  archaeological.  For 
in  thus  detecting  in  the  developmental  processes 
of  the  child's  mind  an  epitome  of  human  and 
animal  evolution,  we  learn  the  better  to  under- 
stand those  processes.  We  are  able  to  see  in 
such  a  simple  phenomenon  as  an  infant's  respon- 
sive smile  a  product  of  far-reaching  activities 
lying  outside  the  individual  existence.  In  the 
light  of  the  new  doctrine  of  evolution,  the  early 
period  of  individual  development,  which  is  pre- 
eminently the  domain  of  instinct, — that  is  to  say, 
of  tendencies  and  impulses  which  cannot  be 
referred  to  the  action  of  the  preceding  circum- 
stances of  the  individual, — is  seen  to  be  the  re- 
gion which  bears  the  clearest  testimony  to  this 
preparatory  work  of  the  race.  It  is  in  infancy 
that  we  are  least  indebted  to  our  individual 
exertions,  mental  as  well  as  bodily,  and  that 
our  debt  to  our  progenitors  seems  heaviest.  In 
the  rapidity  with  which  the  infant  co-ordinates 
external  impressions  and  movements,  as  in 
learning  to  follow  a  light  with  the  eyes,  or 
stretch  out  the  hand  to  seize  an  object,  and 
with  which  feelings  of  fear,  anger,  etc.,  attach 
themselves  to  objects  and  persons,  we  can 
plainly  trace  the  play  of  heredity — that  law  by 
which  each  new  individual   starts   on  his  life 


vlii       THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS  OF   CHILDHOOD. 

course  enriched  by  a  legacy  of  ancestral  ex- 
perience. 

Viewed  in  this  light,  infant  psychology  is 
seen  to  be  closely  related  to  other  departments 
of  the  science.  To  begin  with,  it  has  obvious 
points  of  contact  with  what  is  known  as  the 
psychology  of  race  (Volkerpsychologie).  The 
first  years  of  the  child  answer  indeed  to  the 
earliest  known  stages  of  human  history.  How 
curiously  do  the  naive  conceptions  of  nature, 
the  fanciful  animistic  ideas  of  things,  and  the 
rude  emotions  of  awe  and  terror,  which  there 
is  good  reason  to  attribute  to  our  earliest 
human  ancestors,  reflect  themselves  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  child !  It  is  probable  indeed 
that  inquiries  into  the  beginnings  of  human 
culture,  the  origin  of  language,  of  primitive 
ideas  and  institutions,  might  derive  much  more 
help  than  they  have  yet  done  from  a  close 
scrutiny  of  the  events  of  childhood. 

Again,  it  is  evident  that  the  psychology  of* 
the  infant  borders  on  animal  psychology.  The 
child's  love  of  animals  points  to  a  special  facility 
in  understanding  their  ways ;  and  this,  again, 
indicates  a  certain  community  of  nature.  The 
intelligence  of  children  and  of  animals  has  this 
in  common,  that  each  is  simple  and  direct,  un- 
encumbered with  the  fruit  of  wide  comparison 
and  abstract  reflection,  keen  and  incisive  within 
its  own  narrow  compass.  Both  the  child  and 
the  brute  are  exposed  by  their  ignorance  to 


INTRODUCTION.  IX 

similar  risks  of  danger  and  deception ;  both 
show  the  same  instincts  of  attachment  and 
trustfulness.  And  so  a  study  of  the  one  helps 
the  understanding  of  the  other.  The  man  or 
woman  who  sees  most  clearly  into  the  workings 
of  a  child's  mind  will,  other  things  being  equal, 
be  the  best  understander  of  animal  ways,  and 
vice  versa. 

There  is  one  particular  aspect  of  this  relation 
between  infant  and  animal  psychology  which 
calls  for  special  notice.  The  baby  contrasts 
strongly  with  the  young  of  the  lower  animals 
in  the  meagreness  of  its  equipment  for  life. 
Though,  as  observed  above,  the  child  reaps 
the  heritage  of  the  past  in  instinctive  germs  of 
capacity,  these  are  far  less  conspicuous,  far 
less  perfect  and  self-sufficing  than  the  unlearnt 
aptitudes  of  young  animals.  The  young  chick 
seems  able  to  co-ordinate  the  movements  of 
its  head  with  visual  impressions  so  perfectly 
from  the  very  first  that  it  can  aim  with  accuracy 
at  so  small  an  object  as  a  grain  of  corn.  The 
young  kitten  displays  quite  an  experienced  and 
mature  hostility  to  the  hereditary  foes  of  its 
species.  There  is  nothing  corresponding  to 
this  in  the  case  of  human  offspring.  The  baby 
has  to  begin  life  in  the  most  pitiable  state  of 
helplessness.  For  a  year  and  more  he  cannot 
execute  one  of  the  most  important  and  wide- 
spread functions  of  animal  life,  namely  locomo- 
tion.    And  this  prolonged  period  of  helplessness 

b 


X        THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

has  a  deeply  interesting  significance  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  evolutionist.  The  back- 
wardness of  the  human  offspring,  as  compared 
with  the  forwardness  of  the  animal,  is  only  a 
striking  illustration  of  a  general  law  or  tendency 
of  evolution.  As  creatures  rise  in  the  scale  of 
organization  they  have  to  adapt  their  actions 
to  a  wider  and  wider  variety  of  circumstances 
and  actions  of  the  environment.  In  the  lower 
grades  of  animal  life  there  is  much  more  same- 
ness and  routine  just  because  there  is  much 
more  simplicity.  In  the  higher  grades,  actions, 
having  to  adapt  themselves  to  more  complex 
and  changeful  surroundings,  are  more  varied, 
or  undergo  more  numerous  and  extensive 
modifications  :  contrast  the  actions  performed 
by  the  bee  in  obtaining  its  food  with  those 
carried  out  by  the  fox.  And  the  capability  of 
thus  varying  or  modifying  actions  is  the  result 
of  individual  experience  and  education.  Hence, 
as  the  variability  of  the  actions  of  life  increasies, 
so  does  the  area  of  individual  learning  or  ac- 
quisition, as  distinct  from  that  of  inherited 
aptitude  or  instinct.  And  since  the  range  and 
variability  of  human  actions  are  immeasur- 
ably greater  than  those  of  the  most  intelligent 
animal  performances,  we  find  that  the  infant  is 
least  equipped  for  his  earthly  pilgrimage  and 
has  most  to  do  in  the  way  of  finding  out  how 
to  live. 

And  here  we  seem  to  touch  on   the  more 


INTRODUCTION.  XI 

practical  side  of  our  subject.  To  the  helpless- 
ness of  the  infant  there  correspond  those  in- 
stincts of  tendance,  protection,  and  guidance 
which,  though  discernible  in  the  lower  animals, 
are  only  highly  deveiOped  in  man  ;  and  which, 
while  they  are  seen  most  conspicuously  in  the 
human  mother,  are  shared  in  by  all  adults,  and 
underlie  the  long  and  tedious  processes  of 
education.  It  is  not  only  the  theoretic  psy- 
chologist who  needs  to  study  infantine  ways  ; 
it  is  the  practical  psychologist,  that  is  to  say, 
the  educator.  The  first  three  or  four  yearsi 
of  life  supply  the  golden  harvest  to  which  every  | 
scientific  educationist  should  go  to  reap  his} 
facts.  For  the  cardinal  principle  of  modernJ 
educational  theory  is,  that  systematic  training 
should  watch  the  spontaneous  movements  of 
the  child's  mind  and  adapt  its  processes  to 
these.  And  it  is  in  the  first  years  of  life  that 
the  spontaneous  tendencies  show  themselves 
most  distinctly.  It  is  in  this  period,  before 
the  example  and  direct  instruction  of  others 
have  had  time  to  do  much  in  modifying  and 
restraining  innate  tendency,  that  we  can  most 
distinctly  spy  out  the  characteristics  of  the 
child.  It  is  the  infant  who  tells  us  most  un- 
mistakably how  the  young  intelligence  proceeds 
in  groping  its  way  out  of  darkness  into  light. 
It  is  an  historical  fact,  that  the  supreme  ne- 
cessity in  education  of  setting  out  with  training 
the  senses  and  the  faculty  of  observation,  was 


Xll      THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

discovered  by  a  close  consideration  of  the 
direction  which  children's  mental  activity  spon- 
taneously follows.  By  sitting  at  the  feet  of 
nature  and  conning  the  ways  of  untaught 
childhood  we  may  learn  that  all  the  essential 
functions  of  intelligence, — separation  or  ana- 
lysis, comparison, discrimination, etc., — come  into 
play  under  the  stimulating  force  of  a  strong 
external  impression.  In  the  act  of  holding  and 
looking  at  its  brightly-coloured  toy  the  infant 
is  already  showing  himself  to  have  a  distinc- 
tively human  mind,  and  to  be  on  the  road  to 
abstract  reflection  or  thought.  It  is  during 
that  prolonged  gaze  that  the  first  rude  tentatives 
in  distinguishing  and  relating  the  parts  and 
qualities  of  things  are  effected.  And  the  object- 
lesson,  properly  conceived,  is  nothing  but  a 
methodical  development  of  the  mental  processes 
which  are  involved  in  every  serious  effort  of 
infantine  inspection. 

Nor  is  it  only  on  the  intellectual  side  that 
this  study  of  the  infant  mind  is  of  moment  to 
the  teacher.  It  is  in  the  first  three  or  four 
years  of  life  that  we  have  the  key  to  the  emo- 
tional and  moral  nature  of  the  young.  If  we 
want  to  know  how  a  child  feels  about  things, 
what  objects  and  articles  bring  him  most  plea- 
sure, we  must  watch  him  at  his  self-prompted 
play  and  overhear  his  uncontrolled  talk.  It 
seems  self-evident  indeed  that  if  the  teacher  is 
to  adapt  his  method  of  training  so  far  as  may 


INTRODUCTION.  Xlll 

be  to  the  tastes  and  predilections  of  the  pupil, 
he  must  have  made  a  preliminary  study  of  these 
in  their  unprompted  and  unfettered  expression. 
If  the  study  be  deferred  to  school  life  it  will 
never  be  full  or  exact.  The  artificial  character 
of  even  the  brightest  school  surroundings  offers 
too  serious  an  obstacle  to  the  free  play  of 
childish  likings. 

Enough  has  been  said,  perhaps,  to  show  that 
the  observation  and  interpretation  of  the  infant 
mind  are  at  once  a  matter  of  great  theoretic 
and  practical  importance.  And  now  comes  the 
question  :  By  whom  can  this  line  of  research 
be  best  pursued  ?  The  conditions  of  success 
are  plainly  two  :  (i)  proper  qualifications  for 
the  work,  and  (2)  ample  opportunity. 

I.  With  respect  to  the  first  condition,  it  has 
already  been  suggested  that  a  good  observer 
of  childish  ways  must  combine  a  number  of  in- 
tellectual and  moral  excellences.  He  must, 
to  begin  with,  be  a  painstaking  and  exact  ob- 
server. He  must  be  determined  to  see  children 
as  they  actually  are,  and  not  to  construct  them 
out  of  his  own  presuppositions.  And  this  im- 
plies a  mind  trained  in  observation,  and  a 
certain  scientific  rigour  of  intellect.  Yet  this 
is  clearly  not  enough,  for  many  an  excellent 
observer  of  other  domains  of  nature  might 
prove  a  very  sorry  depicter  of  infant  traits. 
The  close  habitual  concentration  of  the  mind 
on  things  so  trivial,  to  robust  common  sense, 


XIV     THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

as  baby  whims  and  oddities,  presupposes  a 
selective  emotion,  a  strong  loving  interest  in 
this  particular  domain  of  natural  fact.  And 
this,  again,  implies  that  the  observer  should  be 
touched  by  that  enthusiasm  for  childhood 
which  shows  itself  as  a  kind  of  consuming 
passion  in  men  like  Pestalozzi  and  Froebel. 

Nor  is  this  all.  The  infant  mind  cannot  be 
seen,  but  only  divined.  Every  movement  of 
the  tiny  hands,  every  modulation  of  the  baby 
voice,  is  as  meaningless  as  sounds  of  an  un- 
known tongue,  until  the  interpretative  work  of 
imagination  is  added.  And  it  is  just  in  the 
ability  thus  to  construe  the  external  signs  of  in- 
fantine feeling  and  thought  that  so  many  other- 
wise good  observers  fail.  Nothing,  perhaps, 
has  been  more  misunderstood  than  childhood. 
Few  have  the  retentive  memory  of  their  own 
early  experiences  which  would  at  once  put 
them  en  rapport  with  the  mind  they  are  ob- 
serving. And  few  have  the  disposition  to 
seriously  endeavour  to  think  themselves  into 
the  situation  and  circumstances  of  the  child, 
casting  aside  their  own  adult  habits  of  mind, 
and  trying  to  become  themselves  for  the  mo- 
ment as  little  children. 

Neither  the  close  observation  nor  the  careful 
interpretation  of  children's  words  and  actions 
can  be  counted  on  where  there  is  not  love  and 
the  habitual  companionship  which  grows  out 
of  love.     The  man  to  whom  children  will  reveal 


INTRODUCTION.  XV 

themselves,  is  not  he  who  is  wont  to  look  on 
them  as  a  nuisance  or  a  bore,  but  he  who  finds 
them  an  amusement  and  a  delight,  who  likes 
nothing  better  than  to  cast  aside  now  and 
again  the  heavy  armour  of  serious  business,  and 
indulge  in  a  good  childish  romp.  Understand- 
ing of  the  child's  mental  workings,  his  own 
peculiar  maniere  de  voir,  his  standard  of  the 
importance  of  things,  and  so  forth,  presupposes 
a  habit  of  steeping  the  mind  in  the  atmosphere 
of  child-life. 

2.  It  follows  that  a  complete  qualification 
for  the  office  includes  the  second  condition, 
namely  ample  opportunity.  Nobody  ever  ac- 
quired the  art  of  reading  the  book  of  child- 
nature  who  had  not  enjoyed  full  opportunity 
of  observation.  When,  however,  we  consider 
the  first  year  or  two  of  life,  we  see  that  oppor- 
tunity is  necessarily  greatly  restricted.  Beyond 
the  mother,  nurse,  and  perhaps  the  doctor,  who 
is  there  that  is  privileged  to  watch  the  first 
tremulous  movements  of  the  baby-mind  ? 

And  here  the  thought  naturally  occurs,  that 
the  mother  is  the  person  specially  marked  out 
by  nature  for  this  honourable  task.  She  is,  or 
ought  to  be,  the  one  who  comes  into  closest 
contact  with  the  baby,  and  gives  it  the  first 
sweet  taste  of  human  fellowship.  She  too  has, 
or  ought  to  have,  the  liveliest  interest  in  the 
child,  the  absorbing  interest  of  idolatrous 
maternal  love.     She,   we  all    cheerfully  grant, 


XVI     THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

will  grudge  no  effort  spent  in  divining  the 
direction  of  those  first  obscure  baby  impulses, 
the  form  of  that  first  unfamiHar  baby  thought. 
But  has  she  the  other  quahfications — the  mind 
severe  in  its  insistance  on  plain  ungarnished 
fact,  trained  in  minute  and  accurate  observation 
and  in  sober  methodical  interpretation  ?  Here 
our  doubts  begin  to  arise.  Few  mothers,  one 
suspects,  could  be  trusted  to  report  in  a  perfectly 
cold-blooded  scientific  way  on  the  facts  of  infant 
consciousness.  The  feelings  which  rightly  tend 
to  baby-worship  would,  one  feels  sure,  too 
often  lead  to  an  arbitrary  limitation  of  the  area 
of  fact,  to  confusion  of  what  is  actually  observed 
with  what  is  only  conjecturally  inferred,  to 
exaggeration  and  misrepresentation.  The  very 
excellences  of  maternity  seem  in  a  measure  to 
be  an  obstacle  to  a  rigorous  scientific  scrutiny 
of  babyhood. 

The  doctor  would  of  course  be  much  more 
likely  to  possess  the  scientific  qualifications  for 
this  office  of  baby-interpreter.  And  medical 
men  have  been  known  to  throw  themselves 
into  the  work.  At  the  same  time  it  is  obvious 
that  a  doctor's  preoccupation  of  mind  with  the 
physical  state  of  the  infant  would  necessarily 
interfere  with  a  close  attention  to  psychical 
traits.  And  at  best  he  could  only  obtain,  by 
his  direct  observation  alone,  a  few  fragmentary 
results. 

And  here,  perhaps,  we  may  do  well  to  think 


INTRODUCTION.  XVU 

of  another  possible  candidate  for  our  post. 
The  father  can,  it  is  evident,  find  an  ampler 
opportunity  than  the  doctor  for  a  continuous 
systematic  observation  of  his  child.  No  doubt 
he  will  have  obstacles  put  in  his  way.  It  is 
not  improbable  that  the  nurse  may  assert  her 
authority  and  set  her  face  resolutely  against  a 
too  free  intrusion  of  man's  footsteps  into  the 
woman's  domain.'  Still  these  obstacles  ma^ 
by  judicious  cajoling  be  greatly  reduced  in  size, 
if  not  altogether  removed.  In  most  cases,  it 
may  be  presumed,  he  will  have  a  moderate 
paternal  sort  of  interest  in  the  doings  of  his 
tiny  progeny.  And  his  masculine  intelligence 
will  be  less  exposed  to  the  risk  of  taking  a  too 
sentimental  and  eulogistic  view  of  the  baby 
mind. 

The  father  cannot,  however,  hope  to  accom- 
plish the  task  alone.  His  restricted  leisure 
compels  him  to  call  in  the  mother  as  collabora-j 
teur.  Indeed,  one  may  safely  say,  that  the 
mother's  enthusiasm  and  patient  brooding 
watchfulness  are  needed  quite  as  much  as  the 
fathers  keen  analytic  vision.  The  mother 
should  note  under  the  guidance  of  the  father, 
he  taking  due  care  to  test  and  verify.  In  this 
way  we  may  look  for  something  like  a  complete 
record  of  infant  life. 

It  is  satisfactory  to  find  that  fathers  are 
waking  up  to  a  sense  of  their  duty  in  this 
matter,  and  are  already  laying  the  foundations 


XVUl     THE  FIRST  THREE   YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

of  what  may  some  day  grow  into  a  big  biogra- 
phical dictionary  of  infant  worthies.  The 
initiative,  as  might  have  been  expected,  has  been 
taken  by  men  of  scientific  habits  and  tastes. 
Physicians,  naturahsts,  and  psychologists  have 
co-operated  in  this  useful  parental  work.  Among 
physicians  may  be  named  Tiedemann,  Sigis- 
mund,  and  Lobisch.  Among  naturalists  figure 
the  names  of  Darwin  and  Professor  Preyer. 
And  the  psychologists  are  represented  by  M. 
Taine,  M.  Perez,  Mr.  F.  Pollock,  and  others.^ 

The  volume  which  is  here  presented  in  an 
English  garb,  is  from  the  pen  of  one  who 
combines  considerable  physiological  and  psy- 
chological knowledge  with  a  practical  interest 
in  education.  M.  Perez  is  best  known  perhaps 
as  a  writer  of  psedagogic  literature.  He  has 
written  a  volume,  as  well  as  occasional  articles 
on  distinctly  paedagogic  themes,  and  in  addition 
to  this  has  edited  writings  of  other  psedago- 
gists. 

The  peculiarity  of  this  record  of  the  first 
three  years  of  the  child,  is  that  it  is  not  a  bio- 


1  Reference  to  the  bibliography  of  the  subject  will  be 
found  in  Preyer's  Die  Seek  des  Kindes^  cap.  19.  The  obser- 
vations of  Darwin,  Taine,  Pollock,  and  others  are  recorded 
in  Mind,  vol.  ii.  pp.  252,  285  ;  vol.  iii.  p.  392  ;  vol.  vi. 
p.  104.  I  may  also  refer  to  two  articles  of  my  own,  one  on 
Babies  and  Science,  in  The  Conihill  Magazine,  May,  1881, 
and  one  on  Baby  Linguistics,  in  llie  English  Illustrated 
Magazi?ie,  November,  1884. 


INTRODUCTION.  xix 

graphical  sketch.  M.  Perez,  so  far  as  we  can 
judge,  has  made  special  note  of  the  progress 
of  one  or  two  favourites,  but  his  record  is  a 
wide  and  comparative  one.  This  gives  it  its 
peculiar  utility.  Each  mode  of  chronicling  the 
events  of  child-life  is  valuable — the  careful  chro- 
nological report  of  a  single  child's  development, 
as  that  of  Tiedemann,  Darwin,  Preyer,  and 
others,  and  the  larger  survey  of  facts  which 
comes  from  the  observation  of  a  number  of 
children  and  the  averaging  of  the  results 
reached,  as  in  the  work  of  M.  Perez.  It  may 
be  added  that  our  Author  appears  to  have  en- 
joyed very  exceptional  advantages  in  finding 
out  the  ways  of  infants. 

The  obvious  defect  of  a  single  biographical 
record  is,  that  it  cannot  be  taken  as  typical. 
As  every  mother  of  a  family  knows,  children 
manifest  striking  differences  from  the  very 
beginning  of  life.  Indeed,  it  is  not  too  much 
to  say,  that  the  child  shows  its  individuality 
the  very  first  day  of  its  post-natal  existence,  in 
the  way  it  takes  to  the  nutriment  provided  by 
nature.  The  differences  of  mental  precocity  in 
infants  are  very  striking  too.  It  is  one  merit 
of  the  present  volume,  that  it  presents  us  with 
a  wide  variety  of  childish  character.  In  some 
places  we  have  a  distinctly  precocious  trait 
recorded,  as  for  example  in  the  odd  display  of 
quasi-pity  by  a  child  of  sixteen  months,  at 
the  sight  of  an  adult  undergoing  a  douche  bath 


XX     THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

(p.  80).  En  revanche,  we  have  in  other  places 
instances  of  quite  commonplace  achievement, 
if  not  of  decided  backwardness,  as  when  it  is 
recorded  that  a  child  of  eleven  months  was 
able  to  understand  a  number  of  words  and 
"even  a  few  little  phrases"  (p.  238).  It  is 
only  by  taking  the  dull  and  the  clever  infants 
together  that  we  are  able  to  reach  the  idea  of 
an  average  typical  development. 

M.  Perez  combines,  I  think,  in  a  very  happy 
and  unusual  way,  the  different  qualifications  of 
a  good  observer  of  children.  He  has  the  first 
condition — loving  interest,  and  the  clear  sym- 
pathetic insight  which  grows  out  of  this.  Even 
the  much- neglected  dreams  of  children  are  a 
matter  of  concern  to  him,  and  receive  illumina- 
tion from  his  bright  intelligence.  Nor  is  he 
without  a  quick  sense  of  the  poetic  charm  of 
babyhood.  Some  of  the  stories  he  tells  us  are 
as  fresh  and  delightful  as  idylls.  They  trans- 
port us  into  the  very  atmosphere  of  unconven- 
tional child-nature.  At  the  same  time  he  never 
allows  his  sentiment  to  get  the  better  of  him. 
He  is  before  all  other  things  savant,  and  as 
such  he  exposes  the  unlovely  side  of  infancy  in 
a  most  merciless  fashion.  The  account  of  the 
little  ones'  fierce  angers,  petty  jealousies,  and 
brutal  insensibilities  to  the  sufferines  of  others 
will  perhaps  horrify  some  readers,  who  are  accus- 
tomed to  think  of  them  as  having  only  a  divine 
or  angelic  side  ;   but  they  will  be  appreciated 


INTRODUCTION.  XXI 

by  every  one  who  cares  more  for  the  accuracy 
of  facts  than  for  their  conformity  to  our  wishes 
and  fancies. 

Another  prominent  feature  of  this  work,  is 
its  clear  recognition  and  appreciation  of  the 
bearings  of  evolution  on  the  facts  of  child-life. 
M.  Perez  is  evidently  an  ardent  evolutionist, 
and  makes  excellent  use  of  the  new  doctrine  in 
explaining  what  he  sees.  This  feature  gives 
the  air  of  newness  to  the  volume.  The 
reader  feels  that  he  is  listening  to  one  who 
is  fully  abreast  of  the  latest  developments  of 
science. 

With  this  feature  may  be  coupled  another, 
namely,  the  ample  reference  to  animal  psy- 
chology. M.  Perez  illustrates  the  observation 
made  above,  that  interest  in  children  has  a 
close  kinship  with  interest  in  animals.  He  has 
himself  been  a  careful  observer  of  domestic 
animals,  and  his  references  to  his  kittens  are  as 
delightful  to  the  imagination  as  they  are  helpful 
to  the  understanding. 

As  remarked,  M.  Perez  looks  at  the  infant 
from  an  educators  point  of  view.  He  knows 
very  well  that  education  begins  from  the  cradle, 
and  his  book  abounds  with  practical  hints  on 
the  proper  way  of  training  the  very  young. 
His  kindly  nature  is  quick  in  detecting  the 
woes  of  childhood,  and  eloquent  in  pleading 
for  their  mitigation.  Instance  what  is  said 
about   the    wickedness    of    deceiving    children 


XXU      THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

(p.  98).  At  the  same  time,  the  psedagogic 
intention  is  never  obtruded  unpleasantly  on 
the  reader's  notice.  It  is  by  way  of  passing 
suggestion,  rather  than  of  elaborate  enforce- 
ment, that  he  aims  at  making  this  study  of 
facts  a  practical  guide  to  the  mother  and  the 
teacher. 

A  last  feature  of  this  volume  which  is  deserv- 
ing of  mention,  is  its  thoroughly  French  form 
and  style.  The  reader  feels  at  every  page  that 
he  is  listening  to  a  Frenchman  who  knows  how 
to  shape  his  materials,  give  order  and  arrange- 
ment to  his  exposition,  light  it  up  with  per- 
tinent illustration,  and  adorn  it  with  the  graces 
of  style.  While  in  places  the  Author  ventures 
a  few  steps  into  the  darker  recesses  of  meta- 
physical psychology,  he  never  long  forgets  that 
he  is  writing  a  popular  work.  And  he  has 
succeeded  in  producing  a  volume  which,  while 
it  will  be  of  special  interest  to  the  scientific 
student,  will  attract  the  general  reader  as  well. 

It  may  not  be  superfluous  to  say  perhaps, 
what  I  feel  sure  the  Author  himself  would 
endorse,  that  this  volume  makes  no  pretension 
to  be  a  final  and  exhaustive  study  of  its  subject. 
A  complete  theory  of  the  infant  mind  will  need 
to  be  built  up  by  the  combined  efforts  of  many 
observers  and  thinkers.  In  the  region  of  psy- 
chology, much  more  than  in  that  of  the  physical 
sciences,  repetition  of  observation  and  experi- 
ment is  needed  to  check  and  verify  the  results 


INTRODUCTION.  .     xxiil 

of  individual  research.  The  secrets  of  infancy 
will  only  be  read  after  many  pairs  of  eyes  have 
pored  over  the  page.  Though,  as  observed, 
M.  Perez  has  made  his  studies  unusually  wide, 
it  may  be  reasonably  doubted  whether  in  some 
cases  he  does  not  give  exceptional  instances 
as  typical  and  representative.  Certain  it  is 
that  his  notes  respecting  the  first  appearance  of 
sensations,  e.g.  those  of  taste  and  smell,  of  the 
perceptions  of  distance,  etc.,  of  the  movements 
of  grasping  objects,  and  so  forth,  differ  in  some 
important  respects  from  those  of  other  observ- 
ers. In  certain  particulars,  too,  this  volume 
is  less  full  than  some  other  records,  notably 
that  of  Professor  Preyer  s  Die  Seele  des  Kindes, 
which,  as  it  was  published  after  the  work  before 
us,  is  not  referred  to.  Hence  the  student  who 
wants  to  be  quite  abreast  of  the  present  results 
of  research  will  do  well  to  read  other  records 
in  company  with  this.  This  circumstance  how- 
ever does  not  in  the  least  detract  from  the 
value  of  The  First  Three  Years ^  as  ,g,  rich  mine 
of  facts,  and  one  of  the  fullest,  if  not  indeed" 
the  very  fullest,  monograph  on  its  subjec.t_ 

In  conclusion,  I  would  express  the  hope 
that  this  pleasant  volume  will  stimulate  many 
an  English  parent  to  new  individual  research 
in  the  same  promising  field.  After  reading  it 
carefully,  any  person  of  ordinary  intelligence 
will  have  learnt  something  about  the  things  to 
be  looked  for,  and  the  way  in  which  they  are 


XXIV      THE   FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

to  be  looked  for.  And  I  trust  I  am  not  going 
ultra  vires  in  reminding  my  readers  that  there 
is  an  English  journal  of  psychology,  the  Editor 
of  which  has  proved  his  readiness  to  publish 
contributions  to  the  young  and  promising  science 
of  baby-lore. 

James  Sully. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE    FACULTIES    OF   THE    INFANT    BEFORE    BIRTH. 

C^N  the  foetus  be  regarded  as  belonging  to  psychology? 
Pey^iroiogists  have  no  doubt  whatever  on  the  subject,  for 
they  will  not  admit  that  any  organism  exists  without 
functions  in  a  greater  or  less  stage  of  development,  and 
they  see  in  the  foetus  a  rough  sketch,  as  it  were,  of  the 
entire  system  of  the  organs  of  sensibility.  No  doubt, 
either,  is  expressed  on  the  question  by  philosophers  of  the 
experimental  school,  who  accord  as  much  importance  to 
the  unconscious  as  to  the  conscious  life  of  the  mind,  and 
who  regard  the  apparently  automatic  movements  of  the 
intra-uterine  stage  of  existence  as  evident  manifestations  of 
sensibility  of  some  sort.  We  will  begin  by  quoting  the 
opinion  expressed  by  Dr.  Luys  concerning  initial  sensibility. 
"  In  the  first  phases  of  foetal  life  it  is  very  difficult  to  fix 
definitely  at  what  epoch  sensibility  manifests  itself  as  a 
motor  force ;  nevertheless,  from  the  fourth  month  we  can 
observe  that  the  nervous  system  begins  to  react  and  reveal 
the  vitality  of  the  different  apparatuses  of  which  it  is  made 
up.  We  know,  indeed,  that  from  this  period  the  foetus  is 
sensitive  to  the  action  of  cold,  and  that  we  can  develop  its 
spontaneous  movements  by  applying  a  cold  hand  to  the 
abdomen  of  the  mother.  We  know  also  that  it  executes 
spontaneous  movements  to  withdraw  from  pressure  that 
constrains  it  and  brings  its  sensibility  into  play.  We  may 
then  legitimately  conclude  that  here  we  have  the  first 
gleams  of  awakening  sensibility,  which  from  this  period  is 

6 


2         THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

transmitted  through  its  natural  channels  by  the  nervous 
system  and  already  regulated  in  the  manner  in  which  it  will 
subsequently  manifest  itself  throughout  the  organism."  i 

If  we  admit  with  this  writer  the  persistence  in  the  nerve 
cellules  of  the  vibrations  which  first  set  them  in  motion, 
and,  as  regards  intellectual  activity,  the  persistence  in  these 
vibrations  of  memories  and  ideas,  unconscious  though  they 
be,  we  shall  understand  the  great  interest  which  psycholo- 
gists must  feel  in  the  study  of  the  functional  action,  what- 
ever its  nature,  of  psychological  life  before  birth. 

M.  Ribot,  a  philosopher  of  the  experimental  school, 
admits  the  possibility  of  researches  useful  to  psychology 
being  made  on  the  subject  we  are  treating  of,  but  only 
from  the  point  of  view  of  our  knowledge  of  the  unconscious 
life.  The  first  forms  of  unconscious  life  must  be  sought  for 
in  the  foetal  life — a  subject  full  of  obscurity,  and  very  little 
studied  from  the  psychological  point  of  view.  We  may 
hold,  with  Bichat  and  Cabanis,  that  though  the  external 
senses  are  in  the  foetus  in  a  state  of  torpor,  and  though,  in 
the  constant  temperature  of  the  amniotic  fluid,  the  general 
sensibility  of  the  foetus  is  almost  null,  still  its  brain  has 
already  exercised  perception  and  will,  as  seems  to  be 
evidenced  by  the  movements  of  the  foetus  during  the  last 
months  of  pregnancy. ^ 

Professor  Kussmaul  goes  still  further.  He  admits  "  that 
.  the  child  can,  even  before  birth,  experience  certain  sensations 
'  and  acquire  certain  aptitudes  by  means  of  the  sense  of  touch 
aroused  in  it  through  contact  with  the  matrix  which  sur- 
rounds it,  as  well  as  by  the  sensations  of  hunger  and  thirst 
excited  by  the  amniotic  fluid  which  it  swallows.  Thus,  at 
'  this  period  already,  the  intelligence  of  the  child  would  begin 
to  be  developed,  although  very  imperfectly." 

What,  we  ask,  do  these  modifications  of  the  mental  life 
before  birth  amount  to  ?  May  we  hope  that  experimental 
analogy  will  one  day  enlighten  us  on  this  delicate  and  com- 

^  Luys,   Le   Cei-veatt  et   ses    Fonctions,      See    English    translation 
(International  Scientinc  Scries),  p.  126. 
^  Ribot,  L'Hercdi:c.     See  English  translation,  p.  227. 


THE  FACULTIES   OF  A  CHILD   BEFORE   BIRTH.       3 

plex  question  ?  Will  not  the  comparative  anatomy  of  the 
foetal  brain,  the  child's  brain,  and  the  adult  brain  some  day 
inform  us  whether  the  primitive  sensations  are  or  are  not « 
arrested  before  they  reach  the  nerve  fibres  which  help  them  \ 
to  transform  themselves  into  perceptions  ?  The  organs  of 
sense,  although  as  yet  incompletely  finished,  do  they  not 
nevertheless  produce  local  peripheric  reactions,  sensitive 
vibrations,  or  veritable  sensations,  which  are  a  kind  of 
rudimentary  exercise  and  training  to  the  parts  acted  on. 

What  is  the  action  of  external  or  internal  life  on  these 
semi-formed,  semi-active,  perhaps  vaguely  conscious  souls. 
If  the  movements  of  the  foetus  were  all  mechanical  and 
unconscious,  would  its  sensations  end  only  in  dull  excitations 
of  the  sensibihty — the  importance  of  which  it  is  as  unreason- 
able to  deny  as  to  exaggerate  ?  Since  the  deviation  of  the 
tenth  part  of  a  millimeter,  sustained  by  a  nerve  fibre  during 
pregnancy,  exercises  a  considerable  influence  over  the  con- 
texture of  any  one  organ,  the  impressions  received  during 
foetal  life — whether  regular  or  accidental — and  although 
working  on  organs  which  are  still  imperfect  and  unexercised, 
must  nevertheless  have  an  influence  on  the  general  con- 
stitution of  the  mind,  as  well  as  on  its  special  dispositions, 
which  it  will  no  doubt  be  possible  to  determine  within 
certain  limits.  These  are  the  first  rays  of  spiritual  life 
whose  dawn  is  the  moment  of  birth.  It  is  the  first  page  of 
a  book  which  the  psychologist  should  neither  despair  of 
being  able,  nor  be  in  too  great  haste  to  decipher. 

What  is  the  nature  or  the  intensity  of  the  sensations  which 
we  suppose  the  foetus  to  experience  ?  They  are  probably 
sensations  already  localized  and  differentiated,  of  visceral 
comfort  or  discomfort,  muscular,  cutano-thermal,  tactile,  or 
sapid  sensations  ;  these  latter  less  distinct  because  they  are 
less  varied  than  the  vital  and  muscular  sensations ;  we  may 
even  suppose  that,  in  spite  of  the  imperfect  development  of 
the  auditory  apparatus,  the  vibrations  of  sound,  transmitted 
through  the  abdominal  partition  or  chamber,  would  produce 
on  the  parts  already  completed  concussions  corresponding 
to  a  rudimentary  and  general  sensation  of  hearing.  From 
what  we  have  been  able  to  gather,  however,  as  to  the  nature 


4         THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

of  these  hypothetical  sensations,  we  may  infer  that  they  are 
not  very  distinct  or  intense. 

Contemporary  physiology  recognises  generally  in  sensation 
only  the  result  of  the  modification  of  the  organs  which  takes 
place  in  correspondence  to  each  modification  of  the  sur- 
rounding medium.  The  intensity  of  sensation  is  in  direct 
ratio  to  the  resistance  offered  by  the  fibres  of  sensation  to 
the  action  of  external  impressions.  It  is  the  repercussion 
of  this  action  on  the  sensorium  which  produces  sensation. 
The  nerve  of  an  adult  is  able  to  bear  greater  excitation  than 
that  of  a  young  child,  and  requires  for  the  production  of  a 
given  sensation  a  minimum  excitation  stronger  than  the 
minimum  excitation  which  would  produce  the  same  sen- 
sation in  the  case  of  the  child.  But  the  extreme  adaptivity 
of  the  infant  organization  to  its  surroundings,  and  the  small 
resistance  which  it  offers  to  external  excitation,  renders  the 
sensational  susceptibility  considerably  less  than  at  a  more 
advanced  age.  Extremely  open  to  new  impressions,  children 
resist  them  but  little,  easily  get  accustomed  to  them,  and 
also,  for  that  very  reason,  do  not  feel  them  long.  And  all 
this  applies  still  more  strongly  to  the  foetus.  The  relative 
activity  of  the  visceral  functions,  the  extreme  tactile  sen- 
sitiveness of  the  skin, — partly  the  result  of  its  yet  imperfect 
state, — the  already  considerable  development  of  muscular 
sensibility,  may  all  cause  the  foetus  to  experience  distinct 
and  acute  sensations,  under  the  influence  of  pressure,  of  heat 
or  cold,  or  of  internal  modifications  of  the  organization. 

What  do  we  know,  however,  concerning  the  degree  of 
actual  vitality  inherent  in  the  organs  and  the  nervous  centres 
at  the  period  of  which  we  are  treating.  In  a  word,  does 
the  foetus  really  feel  and  receive  the  sensations  which  we 
suppose  it  does  ? 

Most  physiologists  are,  like  Wirchow,  of  opinion  that  the 
new-born  child  is  simply  "  a  vertebrate  animal,"  that  its  un- 
conscious sensations  are  nothing  more  than  automatic 
reflex  actions,  that  its  sensations  and  movements  have  no 
echo  in  the  centres  of  sensational  and  motive  ideality. 
Does  this  mean  that  these  two  encephalic  centres  are 
inactive  in  the  foetus?     Our   scientific   knowledge  of  the 


THE   FACULTIES   OF  A  CHILD   BEFORE   BIRTH.       $ 

foetal  brain,  as  far  as  I  know,  can  teach  us  nothing  decisive 
On  this  point,  and  the  brain  of  the  new-born  child  is  still 
fallow  ground,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  small  amount  of 
information  to  be  found  on  this  subject  in  the  most  recent 
French  works  on  the  brain  in  general.  We  quote  from  Dr. 
Charlton  Bastian  some  interesting  passages  on  the  develop- 
ment of  the  brain  during  foetal  life. 

"  By  the  end  of  the  fifth  month  the  growth  of  the  cerebral 
hemispheres  has  been  so  great  that  they  completely  cover 
not  only  the  corpora  quadrigemina  but  also  the  now  larger 
cerebellum.     .     .     ." 

"  In  the  remaining  important  section  of  intra-uterine  life, 
from  the  sixth  to  the  end  of  the  ninth  month,  the  develop- 
mental changes  in  the  cerebrum  are  much  more  marked  than 
they  are  in  the  cerebellum.  The  walls  of  the  cerebral  hemi- 
spheres become  thicker,  and  ihere  is  a  proportionate  dimi- 
nution in  the  capacity  of  the  *  lateral  ventricles,'  the  three 
*  horns  '  of  which  now  become  quite  distinct.  The  corpus 
callosum  assumes  a  more  horizontal  direction,  whilst  it 
increases  both  in  thickness  and  in  length.  .  .  ." 
"  During  the  sixth  month  a  surprising  development  of  the 
fissures  and  convolutions  takes  place,  so  that  early  in  the 
seventh  month  all  the  principal  of  them  are  distinctly  trace- 
able.    .     .     ." 

"  During  the  attainment  of  this  degree  of  convolutional 
complexity,  some  important  changes  have  been  taking  place 
in  the  relative  development  of  the  different  'lobes*  of  the 
brain.  At  the  seventh  month  the  parietal  lobe  (which  at 
birth  showed  proportionately  fuller  development)  is  notably 
small,  while  the  frontal  or  temporal  lobes  are  large.    .    .    ." 

"  According  to  S.  Van  der  Kolk  and  Vrolik  it  appears 
that  in  their  relative  proportions,  the  lobes  of  the  brain  in  a 
new-born  child  hold  just  the  mean  between  those  of  a 
chimpanzee  and  of  an  adult  man.  In  the  adult  orang, 
however,  the  same  proportion  obtains  between  its  different 
lobes  and  those  of  the  new-born  child.     .     .     ." 

"  In  regard  to  the  microscopical  characters  of  the  foetal 
brain,  one  brief  but  important  statement  deserves  to  be 
recorded.     According  to  Lockhart  Clarke  :     *  In  the  early 


6         THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

foetal  brain  of  mammalia  and  man  the  structure  [of  the 
cerebral  convolutions]  consists  of  one  uninterrupted 
nucleated  network.  As  development  advances,  separate 
layers  may  be  distinguished. '^  But  even  in  these  layers 
there  are  only  to  be  recognised,  *  roundish  nuclei  connected 
by  a  network  of  fibres,'  or,  in  other  parts,  groups  of  more 
elongated  nuclei,  in  place  of  the  distinct  but  differently 
shaped  nerve  cells  with  inter-connecting  processes  which 
are  the  prevaiUng  and  characteristic  constituents  of  the 
cerebral  convolutions  in  their  developed  condition."  ^ 

As  far  as  these  superficial  indications  allow  of  any 
conclusion,  we  see  that  if  the  development  of  the  superior 
hemispheres  appears  to  be  ripe  enough  for  perception, 
emotion,  and  volition,  the  defective  consistence  of  their 
constituent  elements  indicates,  at  least  during  the  uterine 
period,  a  very  limited  functional  power  of  the  psychical 
faculties.  But  it  does  not  follow  from  the  fact  that  the 
development  of  the  cerebellum,  the  organ  of  co-ordinate 
movements,  is  not  so  advanced  as  that  of  the  cerebrum, 
that  the  centres  of  ideality  and  of  motive  volition  have  not 
already  entered  on  their  functions  before  birth. 

Psychologists  ought  then  to  be  very  careful  of  pro- 
nouncing judgment  in  a  matter  where  physiologists  of  the 
highest  authority  are  still  so  much  in  the  dark.  I  may  add, 
that  the  latter  not  being  able  to  subject  new-born  babies 
to  the  murderous  experiments  of  vivisection  under  anaes- 
thetics, we  have  at  the  present  moment  but  little  to 
expect  from  their  direct  sources  of  information  on  the 
cerebral  functions  of  young  children — and  a  fortiori  of  the 
foetus.  At  the  most,  as  we  shall  show  further  on,  they 
may  contribute  to  infant  psychology  some  indirect  infor- 
mation from  their  experiments  on  new-bom  animals. 
Every  age  has  its  comparative  psychology. 
J   For  the  present,  however,   we  may  fairly    assume  from 


*  Notes  of  Researches  on  the  Intimate  Structure  of  the  Brain.  Pro- 
ceedings of  Royal  Society,  1863,  p.  721. 

'  Charlton  Bastian,  The  Brain  as  an  Organ  of  Mind  (International 
Scientific  Series),  ch.  xix.,  pp.  341-346. 


FIRST   IMPRESSIONS   OF   THE   NEW-BORN    CHILD.   'J  - 

analogy,  that  a  long  time  before  it  is  bom  a  child  will  have 
become  acquainted  both  with  pain  and  pleasure,  in  so  far, 
i.e.y  as  its  gradually  developing  organs  have  allowed  the 
passage  of  the  impressions  which  normally  produce  these 
sensations.  It  will  also  have  experienced  a  great  number 
of  lesser  sensations,  which,  though  they  may  have  been 
almost  indifferent  to  it,  will  nevertheless  have  had  some 
sort  of  echo  in  its  already  formed  consciousness.  Most  of 
these  sensations,  from  being  produced  without  the  con- 
currence of  the  higher  brain  action,  will  be  confused  and 
indistinct.  Others,  however,  will  be  clearer,  and  result  in 
true  rudimentary  perceptions — vague  perceptions,  i.e.^  and 
not  localized,  and  without  any  other  connecting  link  than 
that  obscure  and  innate  sentiment  of  personality  which 
is  buried  in  I  know  not  what  mysterious  corner  of  the 
encephalus.  These  perceptions  are,  as  it  were,  interior 
and  subjective.  We  shall  have  occasion  to  return  to  the 
subject  of  perception  during  fcetal  life  in  the  chapter 
devoted  to  the  perception  of  the  new-born  child. 


II. 

THE    FIRST   IMPRESSIONS   OP    THE    NEW-BORN    CHILD. 

The  child  has  already  made  acquaintance  with  pain 
before  coming  into  the  world,  and  we  cannot  tell  how  much 
more  the  hard  labour  of  birth  may  have  caused  it  to  suffer. 
There  is  no  doubt,  however,  that  the  moment  when  it  first 
enters  into  relation  with  external  realities  is  a  very  painful 
one.  As  soon  as  its  head  comes  in  contact  with  the  air, 
this  fluid  pours  in  torrents  down  the  delicate  tissues  of  the 
respiratory  organs ;  and  the  progressive  succession  of  move- 
ments of  inspiration  and  expiration,  which  are  the  begin- 
ning of  pulmonary  respiration,  are  not  effected  without 
painful  shocks.  This  is  why  a  new-born  infant  utters 
sounds  similar  to  those  produced  by  suffocation.  It  is 
only  slowly  and  after  several  days'  time,  that  the  little 
being  gets  accustomed  to  the  atmosphere  which  surrounds 
it.     When  it  first  comes  into  the  world,  unfurnished  with 


8         THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

the  power  of  resistance  which  it  acquires  later,  its  delicate 
skin  is  suddenly  enveloped  in  an  atmosphere  which  is  icy 
cold  compared  to  that  which  it  has  just  left.  Cold  is  the 
most  serious  enemy  to  new-born  children.  We  know  with 
what  care  animals  hasten  to  warm  their  little  ones  with  the 
heat  of  their  own  bodies.  The  first  operation  of  washing 
is  another  source  of  suffering,  for,  whatever  care  be  taken 
and  however  rapidly  it  be  performed,  the  towel  and  the 
sponge,  even  though  of  the  finest  texture,  must  irritate  the 
tender  skin  of  a  new-born  child.  The  freedom  of  move- 
ment, too,  which  its  limbs  have  gained  is  in  itself  a  source 
of  pain,  after  the  soft  pressure  they  have  been  accustomed 
to ;  and  the  most  gentle  handling  of  the  nurse  or  mother 
are  torture  to  its  delicate  frame,  still  suffering  from  the 
struggle  of  coming  into  Ufe. 

All  its  senses  are  battered  by  repeated  shocks  of  strange 
impressions,  and  its  wailing  cries  indicate  how  painfully 
these  are  felt.  A  new-born  infant  is  both  deaf  and  blind, 
but  the  rays  of  light  strike  none  the  less  on  its  eyes  with  a 
sense  of  shock,  and  the  waves  of  sound  dash  all  the  same 
against  its  tympanum. 

Can  we  then  wonder  that  the  child's  entrance  into  life 
should  be  accompanied  by  those  plaintive  cries  so  well 
described  by  the  Latin  poet.  "A  child  at  its  birth,  like 
a  mariner  cast  ashore  by  the  angry  waves,  lies  prostrate  on 
the  earth,  naked,  speechless,  destitute  of  all  the  aids  to 
existence,  from  the  moment  when  it  reaches  the  shores  of 
light,  torn  from  its  mother's  bosom  by  the  efforts  of  nature ; 
and  it  fills  the  place  it  has  entered  with  dismal  wailings. 
And  such  distress  is  but  natural  !  There  lies  before  him 
of  traverse  a  life  afflicted  with  bitter  woes."  ^ 

The  child,  however,  has  no  presentiments  of  the  sorrow  or 
the  joy  which  will  make  up  his  longer  or  shorter  career;  but 
the  individual  life  that  has  become  his  is  evidently  a  cause 
to  suffering  to  him.  Like  new-born  animals,  he  is  restless 
and  wailing  under  the  influence  of  all  the  new  impressions 


Lucretius,  De  Natura  Ke7-uin,  lib.  v.,  ver.  223,  etc. 


FIRST   IMPRESSIONS  OF   THE   NEW-BORN   CHILD.   9 

which  irritate  his  keen  susceptibiUties;  and  it  is  strictly  true 
that  children  make  acquaintance  with  external  life  through 
suffering.  Their  entrance  into  the  world  is  as  painful  as 
their  exit ;  and  this  is  the  reason  why  so  many  children, 
exhausted  by  all  their  efforts  and  sufferings,  fall  after  birth 
mto  a  kind  of  corpse-like  rigidity.  A  new-born  infant 
shows  no  inmiediate  desire  for  food.  This  is  probably 
owing  to  exhaustion  and  the  strong  need  of  sleep,  and 
perhaps  also  to  the  powerful  action  of  the  air,  which  at 
once  begins  to  transfon^  the  venous  blood  into  arterial 
blood. 

"  It  is  not  till  after  several  hours  that  the  need  of  nourish- 
ment first  makes  itself  felt.  The  sensations  of  hunger  and 
thirst,  both  equally  new,  recall  the  child  from  the  oblivion 
of  sleep,  and  it- awakens  with  a  cry.  Maternal  tenderness 
responds  instinctively  to  this  appeal,  and  offers  its  first  gift. 
The  child  now  learns  the  delight  of  moistening  its  lips  with 
a  sweet  and  pleasant  liquid,  imbibed  from  the  breast  on 
which  its  head  reposes  so  softly;  and  the  first  sufferings 
experienced  at  its  debut  are  quickly  effaced  by  this  first 
sweet  pleasure.  The  satisfied  child  falls  asleep  again  on 
its  mother's  bosom,  with  the  feeling  of  comfort  which 
satiety  produces,  and  seems  once  more  to  return  to  the 
isolated  life  which  was  its  normal  condition  in  the  mother's 
womb,  and  which  its  organism  has  not  yet  lost  the  habit  of. 
It  reawakens  from  this  slumber  every  time  that  the  need  of 
nourishment  returns  to  trouble  its  repose."  ^ 

Thus,  though  the  child  thrown  naked  on  the  earth  soon 
finds  there  the  soft  warm  pillow  of  its  mother's  breast ; 
though  nature  herself  manages  for  it  the  transitions  which 
lead  it  gently  up  to  the  complete  possession  of  sight, 
hearing,  and  locomotion,  the  struggle  for  existence  begins 
nevertheless  at  birth.  Hunger,  thirst,  cold,  difficulty  of 
respiration  and  of  digestion,  tactile  and  muscular  sufferings, 
irritating  impressions  on  the  organs  of  sight  and  hearing, 
all   these    await    its    awakening   from    each   of    its    deep 


*  Richard  de  Nancy,  Education  Physique  des  Enfanis. 


iO      THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

slumbers.  And  however  little  conscious  and  vivid  these 
sensations  may  be,  they  none  the  less  affect  the  delicate 
and  still  imperfect  organs.  This  accounts  for  the  great 
difficulty  there  sometimes  is  in  rearing  little  children,  and 
the  frequency  of  nervous  or  pectoral  affections  whicli 
carry  off  so  great  a  number.  Moreover,  if  it  is  reasonable 
to  judge  of  the  welfare  of  a  child  by  the  strength  of,  and 
the  manner  in  which,  its  various  functions  operate,  we  may 
fairly  attempt  to  determine  the  condition  of  a  new-born 
infant  by  this  one  action  of  feeding.  During  the  first  few 
days  babies  suck  feebly  and  without  energy,  and  quickly 
weary  of  the  process.  At  this  period  they  are  suffering 
from  various  operations  of^  nature,  and  up  to  the  third  day 
there  is  a  diminution  of  between  three  and  four  ounces  in 
their  weight ;  and  it  is  not  till  the  sixth  or  seventh  day  that 
they  get  back  to  what  they  were  at  birth.  Thus  we  con- 
clude that  a  child's  general  well-being  corresponds  to  the 
degree  of  development  of  its  organs  and  their  power  of 
adaptation  to  their  new  surroundings  and  conditions. 


CHAPTER  TI. 

MOTOR    ACTIVITY   AT   THE    BEGINNING   OF    LIFE. 

As  the  first  manifestations  of  psychic  Ufe  in  a  new-born 
child  are  shown  in  movements  which  are  more  or  less 
automatic,  it  will  be  well  for  us  first  to  study  the  nature  of 
these  movements,  which  in  adults  are  the  expression  of 
psychological  phenomena.  From  the  very  first  days  we 
perceive  in  infants  a  sort  of  motor  activity,  general  and 
indefinite,  which  is  due  to  external  or  internal  excitations,, 
themselves  also  for  the  most  part  vague  and  undefined. 
We  recognise  in  all  this  activity  a  spontaneous  tendency  of 
the  nervous  centre  to  spend  its  superabundant  energies  \i\ 
muscular  force ;  but  we  can  also  see  in  some  of  the  actions 
the  expression  of  pre-established  association  between 
certain  movements  and  certain  sensations,  agreeable  or 
otherwise.  For  instance,  the  vague  incoherent  movements 
of  the  arms,  legs,  and  facial  muscles,  which  young  babies' 
make,  as  if  trying  to  escape  from  the  pressure  of  their 
clothes,  or  struggling  against  some  painful  state  of  their 
system ;  the  aimless  movements  which  their  arms  perform, 
striking  right  and  left  without  any  definite  object;  all  these 
belong  to  the  first  class  of  indefinite  reflex  actions.  From 
the  first  also,  the  mouth  will  seize  and  suck  eagerly  a  finger, 
or  anything  else  held  before  it ;  the  fingers  close  mechani- 
cally round  any  object  with  which  the  palm  is  touched; 
"  Like  the  leaves  and  flowers  of  a  sensitive  plant  whenever 
they  are  touched  by  a  foreign  substance."  ^  The  eyes  blink 
uneasily,  as  if  endeavouring  to  accustom  themselves  to  the 

'  Memoire  de  Tiedemann. 
zz 


12      THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

blinding  light ;  if  the  soles  of  the  feet  are  touched  gently, 
or  tickled  with  a  feather,  instinctive  movements  are  ^t  once 
made  to  draw  away  the  feet.  All  these  movements,  in 
themselves  automatic,  but  of  definite  use,  belong  to  the 
class  of  general  distinct  movements.  According  to  Darwin, 
one  of  the  first  reflex  actions  to  be  noticed  in  babies,  and 
one  which  appears  at  first  sight  to  have  nothing  to  do 
with  instinct,  is  the  sneezing  which  accompanies  the  first 
act  of  respiration.  The  same  applies  to  the  shrill  staccato 
screams  which  are  the  preliminaries  to  the  action  of  crying, 
the  pouting  of  the  lips,  the  wrinkling  of  the  forehead  and 
eyebrows,  the  contraction  of  the  mouth,  by  which  the 
lower  lip  is  raised,  with  a  convulsive  depression  of  the 
corners  of  the  mouth,  and  finally  the  sobs  and  tears,  when 
the  child  is  old  enough  to  produce  them.  Darwin  tells  us 
that  in  one  of  his  own  children  he  noticed  a  distinct  sob  at 
the  age  of  138  days.  With  regard  to  the  effusion  of  tears,  liis 
observations  show  the  period  of  their  first  appearance  to 
be  very  variable.  .-He  has  never  seen  them  before  the  twenti- 
eth day;  once  at  the  sixty-second  day;  two  other  times-at 
the  eighty- fourth,  and  once  not  before  the  hundredth  day.^ 
Laughter,  which  begins  so  early,  is  manifestly  a  reflex  action,  j 
This  universal  sign  of  joy  consists  in  the  retraction  of  the 
corners  of  the  mouth,  with  a  slight  separation  of  the  lips ; 
and  we  may  remark  this  slight  expansion  of  the  anterior 
muscles  of  the  face,  this  smiling  countenance,  even  in  the 
faces  of  dogs  and  cats  when  at  play.  Tiedemann  thought 
that  he  noticed  in  his  boy  five  days  after  his  birth  "the 
appearance  of  laughter  without  any  particular  motive,  thus 
most  probably  without  intention  or  sentiment  of  pleasure, 
and  simply  the  result  of  chance  action  of  the  mechanism." 
Tiedemann's  son,  however,  was  altogether  remarkably  preco- 
cious. I  would  rather  quote  the  authority  of  Darwin  in  the 
case  of  points  which  have  been  scientifically  observed  by  him. 
"  Those  who  have  the  care  of  young  children,"  he  says, 
"  know  very  well  that  it  is  difificult  to  determine  with 
certainty  whether  particular  movements  of  the  mouth 
express  anything,  i.e.,  whether  a  child  is  really  smiling." 
He  has  scarcely  ever  observed  anything  like  a  real  smile 


MOTOR  ACTIVITY  AT   THE  BEGINNING  OF  LIFE.    1 3 

before  the  age  of  forty -five  days  ;  and  the  broken,  jerky 
sounds  of  genuine  laughter  he  has  never  heard  before  the 
sixty-fifth  day. 

"  In  this  gradual  development  of  the  laughing  powers  we 
find,  up  to  a  certain  point,  an  analogy  with  what  takes  place 
in  the  case  of  tears.  It  seems  that  in  both  cases  a  certain 
amount  of  practice  is  wanted,  just  as  for  the  production  of 
the  ordinary  movements  of  the  body,  or  in  acquhing  the 
power  of  walking.  The  faculty  of  screaming,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  use  of  which  is  very  evident,  is  completely  de- 
veloped at  the  outset."  I  have  seen  smiles  on  many  infants' 
faces  before  they  were  a  month  old.  But  this  henceforth 
reflex  symptom  of  joy  must  not  be  confounded  with  certain 
spasmodic  and  jerky  twitchings  of  the  lips  which  acute  pain 
produces  in  infants  as  well  as  in  grown-up  people.  All  the 
children  of  two  months  old  that  I  have  observed  have 
laughed  genuinely  if  they  were  tickled,  or  if  anything  pleased 
them ;  and  their  laughter  has  been  more  or  less  easy  and 
distinct  according  to  their  organization.  But  they  were  not 
themselves  aware  that  their  smiles  or  laughter  expressed 
anything,  and  I  have  seen  very  few  infants  at  this  age 
respond  with  a  smile  to  their  mother's  smile.  An  appeal  of 
a  more  physical  nature  is  needed  at  this  period,  an  appeal 
of  the  voice,  or  a  sensation  of  physical  pleasure.  Or  if  ever 
they  smiled  consciously  without  any  apparent  stimulus  of 
this  kind,  the  intention  was  probably  a  very  feeble  one. 

People  who  have  to  do  with  young  babies  know  how, 
even  before  the  age  of  two  months,  they  delight  in  moving 
their  arms  and  legs  about  in  their  cradles.  While  waiting 
for  the  power  of  locomotion  to  develop,  the  tendency  to 
motion  vents  itself  in  incessant  exercise  of  the  limbs.  And 
these  movements,  for  the  most  part  vague  and  indefinite, 
are  accompanied  by  "  sounds,  simple  and  inarticulate  it  is 
true,  but  full  of  variety"  (Tiedemann).  Nothing  shows 
more  clearly  the  intimate  relation  between  the  motive  centres 
of  the  limbs  and  the  centres  of  articulation,  than  this 
necessity,  both  for  children  and  animals,  of  associating 
sounds  with  movements.  M.  Taine  gives  an  instance  of 
ihis  in  a  little  girl  on  whom  he  made  observations :  "To- 


14      THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

wards  the  age  of  three-and-a-half  months  she  used  to  be 
laid  out  on  a  rug  in  the  garden,  and  there,  lying  either  on 
her  back  or  her  stomach,  she  would  fling  her  four  limbs 
about  for  hours  together,  uttering  at  the  same  time  all  sorts  of 
varying  cries  and  exclamations  ;  nothing  but  vowel  sounds 
however,  no  consonants ;  this  went  on  for  several  months." 
But  sounds,  either  articulate  or  inarticulate,  are  of  no  great 
importance  as  far  as  psychology  is  concerned,  since  the 
acquired  language  of  gestures  and  words,  as  soon  as  children 
understand  their  expressive  value,  render  these  early  utter- 
ances useless.  It  would  be  very  interesting,  however,  to 
study  them  in  the  case  of  children  placed,  if  such  a  thing 
were  possible,  in  such  a  situation  that  they  would  have  to 
re-invent  their  language,  without  other  help  than  the  gestures 
of  their  teachers.  The  experiment  may  possibly  be  made 
some  day. 

But  to  return  to  the  study  of  movements,  so  interesting  to 
the  psychologist,  because  they  are  most  often. the  expression 
of  mental  phenomena,  which  in  their  turn  they  again  pro- 
duce. ^  Movements  that  are  very  frequent  with  children 
hardly  a  month  old,  are  those  which  they  make  when  they 
are  held  up,  with  both  arms  or  with  only  one,  with  a  slight 
impulsion  up  and  down,  without  apparent  purpose  and  in  a 
more  or  less  marked  manner,  accompanying  the  movement 
with  little  clutchings  of  the  fingers.  In  like  manner,  when 
their  legs  are  free,  they  kick  them  up  and  down  with  an 
automatic  regularity  which  reminds  one  of  certain  convuls- 
ive movements  of  adults.  Must  we  not  recognise  in  these 
movements  a  discharge  of  the  surplus  nervous  activity, 
which  neither  has  nor  seeks  any  special  end,  but  which 
nevertheless  has  a  useful  effect  on  the  whole  system  of  vital 
functions  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  we  may  also  reasonably 
regard  them  as  the  effect  of  latent  tendencies  eager  to 
manifest  themselves  by  specialized  movements ;  and  more- 
over the  result  is  facilitated  by  these  movements,  though 
they  may  have  no  definite  aim.  In  fact,  each  nerve  and 
each  muscle  produces  its  own  action,  more  or  less  regular, 

*  See  M.  Ribot,  Revue  Philosop/n'qiw,  Oct.  ist,  1879. 


MOTOR  ACTIVITY  AT  THE  BEGINNING  OF  LIFE.     I  5 

when  its  fibres  and  centres  have  reached  a  sufficient  degree 
of  strength  or  organization  ;  and  further,  exercise,  which  is 
favourable  to  the  general  development  of  the  body,  prepares 
also  the  way  for  powers  latent  in  the  organization,  and 
which  sometimes  burst  quite  suddenly,  or  at  least  without 
apparent  gradation,  into  actuality. 

During  the  three  first  months  the  movements  of  the  head 
from  right  to  left,  or  left  to  right,  or  up  and  down,  which 
continue  for  some  time  to  be  so  uncertain  and  feeble, 
assume  by  degrees  a  more  definite  character.  In  the  case 
of  a  child  of  a  month  and  a  half  only,  I  have  noticed  a 
movement  of  the  head  which  followed  a  look  cast  in  my 
direction,  while  the  ear  was  bent  forward  as  if  listening  to 
me.  I  have  seen  a  child  at  the  age  of  seven  weeks  repeat 
twice  over  a  face  of  disgust  at  the  sight  of  a  dose  of  medicine, 
accompanying  the  grimace  with  movements  which  later  on 
will  signify  No,  but  which  at  the  time  were  only  unconsciously 
repellent.  This,  however,  was  a  step  in  advance  :  an  infant, 
of  eight  days  or  a  month  simply  makes  a  face,  without  any 
accompanying  movement,  to  reject  anything  that  is  disagree- 
able to  its  taste.  As  for  the  movements  of  the  eyes  which 
Tiedemann  has  observed,  and  which  often  occur  the  second 
day  after  birth,  they  can  only  be  considered  as  purely  reflex 
actions,  even  at  the  age  of  three  weeks  or  a  month,  since,  as 
I  have  already  said,  children  are  blind  during  a  period  the 
length  of  which  it  is  impossible  to  determine.  It  may  be, 
however,  that  the  vibrations  of  light  excite  their  eyes  to 
automatic  movements  which  seem,  by  chance,  to  be 
following  some  object.  These  movements  are  perhaps  a 
necessary  stepping-stone  to  sight,  for  everything  tends  to 
the  belief  in  a  vague  correspondence  between  light  and  the 
tissues  intended  for  vision,  since  a  like  correspondence  is 
found  where  there  is  little  or  no  visual  organ. 

"  The  rudimentary  eye,  consisting,  as  in  a  Planaria,  of  some 
pigment  grains,  may  be  considered  as  simply  a  part  of  the 
surface  more  irritable  by  light  than  the  rest."  ^ 

A  fortiori  may  this  be  the  case  with  young  babies,  who 

^  Herbert  Spencer,  Principles  of  Psychology,  p.  314. 


l6      THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

have  a  special  organ  of  sensibility  to  light.  The  automatic 
movements  of  the  eyes,  which  are  produced  by  mere  irrita- 
tion, without  any  sensation  of  light,  contribute  nevertheless 
to  the  nutrition  of  the  muscular  and  nervous  tissues,  the  de- 
velopment of  which  is  indispensable  to  the  production  of 
visual  sensibility.  As  the  development  of  the  muscles,  the 
nerve  centres,  and  the  motor  centres  proceeds,  as  the  sensa- 
tions become  distinct  and  the  judgments  more  extended, 
the  motor  centres  acquire  more  and  more  specialized  powers 
of  adjustment. 

A  child  of  two  months  who  can  distinguish  several  objects 
outside  himself,  and  is  beginning  to  have  a  vague  idea  of 
distances,  not  being  able  to  stretch  out  his  hands  and  seize 
distant  objects,  as  he  does  those  near  to  him,  bends  his 
whole  body  towards  them.  At  this  same  age  children  begin 
also  to  have  a  clearer  idea  of  extent,  or  rather  of  localization 
relatively  to  the  different  parts  of  their  bodies;  they  now 
only  scratch  themselves  at  intervals.  Before  the  end  of  the 
third  month,  they  begin  to  Hft  their  hands  to  their  faces 
oftener  than  before,  and  a  little  later  the  first  pains  of  teeth- 
ing cause  their  fingers  to  be  incessantly  carried  to  the 
mouth.  They  now  use  their  hands  more  and  to  better  pur- 
pose ;  the  flexion  of  the  hand  from  the  wrist  is  accomplished 
perfectly  ;  the  fingers  have  acquired  more  regular  and  more 
varied  movements,  and  we  notice  efforts  at  stretching  out 
the  arms  ;  this,  however,  rarely  as  yet.  A  child  at  this  age 
will  also  attempt  movements  of  the  legs  and  the  thorax 
to  balance  himself  in  an  upright  position  when  held  up  on 
his  feet,  and  will  struggle  with  arms  and  knees  to  climb  up 
to  his  nurse's  face,  when  she  helps  him  forward  on  his  feet. 

In  a  word,  he  has  gained  greater  consciousness  and 
mastery  of  his  activity ;  it  affords  him  more  pleasure,  and 
this  very  pleasure  excites  him  to  the  use  of  it. 

II. 

MOTOR   ACTIVITY   AT   SIX   MONTHS. 

From  the  fourth  to  the  sixth  month,  progress  is  made  in 

I  numerous  ways,  but  very  slowly  in  comparison  to  some  of 

the  superior  animals.     The  reason  of  this  is,  that  the  more 


MOTOR  ACTIVITY  AT   SIX    MONTHS.  1/ 

the  will  is  intended  to  operate  in  the  control  and  co-ordina- 
tion of  the  movements  of  the  body,  the  more  various  and 
complex  will  be  the  special  locomotive  attainments  and  the 
longer  the  process  of  training.  A  cat  at  a  month  old,  or  a 
dog  at  four  months,  will  better  use  its  paws  for  standing, 
walking,  seizing,  or  playing,  than  a  year-old  child  will  use 
its  hands  and  legs  for  the  same  purposes.  A  kitten,  im- 
mediately after  birth,  can  drag  itself  along  on  its  stomach, 
if  not  walk ;  and  its  efforts  and  progress,  especially  in  loco- 
tion,  may  be  with  interest  compared  to  the  corresponding 
progress  which  takes  place  so  slowly  in  a  child.  ^ 

It  takes  a  child  two  years  to  accomplish  stages  of  progress 
which  a  kitten  gets  over  in  less  than  a  month.  A  child  of  six  / 
months,  if  lowered  rapidly  in  its  nurse's  arms,  will  scarcely 
put  out  his  arms  to  save  himself  from  falling.  His  triumpli 
is  in  the  sitting  posture.  Seated  on  the  floor,  surrounded 
with  playthings,  of  which  he  shows  himself  a  jealous  master, 
his  hands,  arms,  and  fingers  accomplish  many  delicate  and 
varied  movements  of  which  a  cat  or  a  dog  of  a  year  old 
would  not  be  capable.  His  activity,  doubled  now  by 
curiosity,  and  stimulated  to  the  highest  pitch  by  emotional 
sentiments  of  all  sorts,  makes  him  happier  and  happier,  and 
seems  to  him  so  great  a  necessity,  that  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
of  relative  inactivity  weighs  on  him  as  much  as  a  whole  day 
of  ennui  on  a  grown-up  person. 

At  this  period  a  child  gets  an  immense  amount  of  pleasur- 
able sensation  of  all  kinds,  muscular,  intellectual,  and  moral, 
from  its  first  attempts  at  walking  and  talking  and  imitating 
all  the  different  gestures  of  the  people  around  ;  and  all  these 
progressive  steps  are  so  much  the  more  keenly  relished  by 
its  sensitive  personality  that  they  are  not  the  result  of  so 
many  conscious  efforts  or  of  gradual  and  intentional  evolu- 
tion, but  more  often  come  quite  suddenly  into  operation, 
according  as  the  development  of  the  different  organs  which 
produce  them  proceeds.     The  sudden  apparition  of  these 


^  See  Mes  Deux  Chats,  Fragmmt  de  Psychologie  Co/npare'e,  broch, 
in- 12,  chez  Gernier  Baillere,  1881. 


1 8       THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

forces,  of  which  possibly  a  vague  presentiment  may  have 
been  felt  throughout  the  organism,  but  which  have  not  been 
intentionally  called  up,  affords  a  child  the  constant  delight 
of  fresh  surprises.  They  are  treasures  which  he  wishes  to 
share  with  all  around ;  he  will  repeat,  untiringly,  some  new 
movement  of  which  he  has  just  discovered  in  himself  the 
power — a  special  movement  of  the  hands  or  legs,  for  in- 
stance j  and  he  will  endeavour  to  apply  it  to  any  and  every 
purpose,  just  as  the  first  significant  articulations  which- he 
has  learnt  to  utter  serve  him  for  general  terms  to  designate 
objects  which  perhaps  have  only  a  very  distant  resemblance 
to  each  other.  We  need  scarcely  remind  our  readers  that 
with  regard  to  the  most  important  and  personal  progress 
which  goes  on  in  children,  the  greater  part  is  effected  with- 
out our  concurrence,  often  indeed  in  spite  of  us.  There  is 
at  least  very  little  that  we  can,  or  that  we  know  how  to, 
watch  over  and  direct.  But  nothing  is  more  interesting  than 
the  study  of  those  points  in  which  we  can  to  some  measure 
co-operate. 

We  will  take  the  case  ot  a  child  of  ten  months  who  has 
for  some  time  been  learning  to  walk.  His  first  efforts  were 
very  laborious;  although  carefully  held  by  his  frock,  he 
often  failed  in  his  attempts  at  making  steps,  and  more  than 
once  he  rolled  over,  and  the  lesson  ended  with  crying. 
For  a  good  while  he  stuck  at  the  A,  B,  C,  of  the  art,  that  is 
to  say,  at  stamping  up  and  down  in  one  place,  like  a  raw 
recruit  who  is  made  to  stretch  out  first  one  leg  and  then 
the  other.  After  a  time  he  became  a  little  firmer  on  his 
thighs  and  at  last  he  was  able  to  make  seven  or  eight  steps 
without  stumbling.  But  he  still  keeps  his  head  constantly 
turned  towards  the  person  who  is  holding  him  up.  He 
knows  that  it  is  only  thanks  to  this  support  that  he  is  able 
to  keep  upright ;  he  remembers  his  numerous  falls,  or  per- 
haps, like  a  cat  set  down  for  the  first  time  on  a  slippery 
floor,  he  has  an  instinctive  feeling  of  the  difficulty  of  the 
enterprise  ;  whatever,  the  reason,  however,  he  often  exhibits 
fear.  But,  encouraged  by  his  increasing  successes,  he 
finally  forgets  his  apprehensions,  grows  eager  and  inspirited, 
and  executes  a  few  well-formed  steps,  more  or  less  firmly, 


MOTOR  ACTIVITY   AT  TEN    MONTHS.  I9 

and  with  evident  delight.  I  am  even  inclined  to  believe 
that  something  akin  to  •pride, — to  the  exultant  feeling  of  a 
difficulty  conquered, — has  been  awakened  in  him.  And 
this  sentiment  must  be  experienced  in  a  more  or  less 
exaggerated  degree,  for  he  measures  the  importance  of  his 
efforts  by  the  trouble  they  cost  him  ;  and  the  distance 
traversed  by  his  footsteps  is  estimated  by  comparison  of 
the  surrounding  objects  with  his  own  dimensions. 

The  eminent  philosopher,  Herbert  Spencer,  has  admir- 
ably explained  these  two  psychological  facts.  On  the  one 
hand  he  says  : — 

"  The  sense  of  etfort  which  a  child  experiences  in  raising 
a  weight,  greatly  exceeds  in  intensity  the  sense  of  effort  it 
will  experience  in  raising  the  same  weight  by  the  same 
muscles  twenty  years  afterwards.  At  maturity  a  like 
amount  of  sensation  is  the  correlate  of  an  increased  amount 
of  produced  motion.  Similarly  this  relation  varies  quanti- 
tatively as  the  constitutional  state  varies.  After  a  pros- 
trating illness,  the  feeling  of  strain  that  accompanies  the 
raising  of  a  limb,  is  as  great  as  that  which  in  health 
accompanies  a  considerable  feat  of  strength.^ 

"  The  dimensions  of  our  bodies  and  the  spaces  moved 
through  by  our  limbs,  serve  us  as  standards  of  comparison 
with  environing  dimensions ;  and  conceptions  of  smallness 
or  largeness  result  according  as  these  environing  dimensions 
are  much  less  or  much  greater  than  the  organic  dimensions. 
Hence,  the  consciousness  of  a  given  relation  of  two  positions 
in  space,  must  vary  quantitatively  with  variation  of  bodily 
bulk.  Clearly,  a  mouse,  which  has  to  run  many  times  its 
own  length  to  traverse  the  space  which  a  man  traverses  at 
a  stride,  cannot  have  the  same  conception  of  this  space  as 
a  man. 

Quantitative  changes  in  these  compound  relations  of 
co-existence  are  traceable  by  each  person  in  his  own 
mental  history,  from  childhood  to  maturity.  Distances 
which  seemed  great  to  the  boy,  seem  moderate  to  the  man ; 


Herbert  Spencer,  Principles  of  Psychology,  p.  204. 


%   20      THE   FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

and  buildings  once  thought  imposing  in  height  and  mass, 
dwindle  into  insignificance."  ^ 

It  is  the  same  with  all  the  conscious  efforts  that  a  child 
makes,  and  which  habit  so  quickly  transforms  into  reflex 
actions.  I  suppose  that  the  child  of  whom  I"  shall  have 
occasion  to  speak  later  on,  who  seized  hold  of  two  feeding- 
bottles  at  once  and  lifted  them  without  help,  thought  he 
was  lifting  two  objects  of  enormous  weight.  In  like 
manner,  when  at  three-and-a-half  months  children  begin 
to  be  a  little  less  awkward  in  their  way  of  feeling  and 
holding  things,  it  is  evident  that  joy  in  overcoming  diffi- 
culties is  combined  with  the  pleasure  they  experience  in 
touching  and  handling.  At  this  age  the  mere  fact  of  hold- 
ing in  the  hands  a  coveted  piece  of .  paper,  of  hearing  it 
crackle  in  the  fingers,  seems  a  wonderful  feat.  But  one  pf 
the  triumphs  that  a  child  enjoys  the  most  keenly,  is  when 
he  is  first  able,  however  faintly,  to  imitate  some  of  the 
words  which  his  attendants  have  repeated  to  him  with  so» 
much  patience,  and  which,  owing  to  the  quiet  impression- 
ability of  his  brain,  had  been  promptly  fixed  in  the  memory, 
but  which  the  rebellious  vocal  organs  had  long  refused  to 
utter.  And  when  at  last  he  succeeds  in  pronouncing  them, 
however  badly,  he  makes  up  for  lost  time,  and  seeitis  to 
delight  in  deafening  himself  incessantly  with  the  repetition 
of  these  sounds. 

III. 

MOTOR   ACTIVITY   AT   FIFTEEN   MONTHS. 

j  At  a  year  old,  children  begin  to  toddle  a  few  steps  by . 
themselves,  letting  themselves  go  from  one  person  to  another; 
they  are  now  no  longer  so  much  afraid  of  falls,  which  they 
can  ward  off  by  reaching  out  their  hands  to  the  floor ;  they 
take  kindly,  moreover,  to  the  role  of  quadruped,  which  they 
find  very  convenient.  It  is  curious  to  watch  them  at  this 
age,  leaning  with  their  stomachs  against  chairs  or  benches, 
as  they  will  for  half-an-hour  at  a  time,  arranging  and  dis- 
arranging their  toys  ;   spreading  out  little  mimic  feasts,  with 

^  Herbert  Spencer,  Principles  of  Psychology^  p.  213. 


MOTOR  ACTIVITY   AT  FIFTEEN    MONTHS.  21 

any  scraps  they  can  get  hold  of ;  playing  with  the  cat  or  the 
dog,  who  give  themselves  up  most  amiably  to  being  tortured  ; 
then  suddenly  turning  round  to  any  one  present ;  stretching 
out  their  arms  with  earnest  pantomine,  if  the  person  moves 
away  or  refuses  them  what  they  pointed  to  ;  turning  this  way 
and  that,  as  thefr  mobile  impressions  prompt  them ;  creeping 
carefully  round  a  chair  or  table,  chnging  on  to  it  all  the 
time,  stooping  down  with  the  same  precaution  in  order  to 
sit  on  the  ground,  and  then  lifting  themselves  up  again 
with  a  little  more  difficulty— in  short,  learning  to  trust  to 
their  own  resources,  and  now  almost  able  to  stand  upright 
and  move  about  at  will,  with  very  little  help  from  grown-up 
people. 

Towards  the  age  of  fifteen  months  children  will  execute 
with  a  skill  and  precision  comparatively  great,  a  number  of 
nlo^ements  which  they  have  either  just  acquired  or  have 
been  gradually  bringing  to  perfection.  A  few  instances 
that  I  shall  cite  will  give  an  idea  of  the  enormous  progress 
accomplished-  by  this  time.  The  head  can  now  be  raised 
or  lowered,  turned  to  right  or  left,  held  immovable  by  the 
tension  of  the  neck,  shaken  to  signify  No^  nodded  up  and 
down  for  Yes^  tossed  about  with  joy,  or,  at  some  outburst 
of  tenderness,  sunk  in  the  shoulders,  or  hidden  playfully  in 
the  hands. 

The  ear  and  the  eye  have  become  accommodated  to 
distances  ;  the  ear  is  now  always  promptly  turned  towards 
the  point  whence  a  sound  is  heard  to  come  ;  it  can  also 
hear  more*  sounds,  and  has  even  the  power  of  choosing 
what  it  will  listen  to,  and  of  shutting  itself  against  sounds 
which  are  displeasing  to  it;  it  has  further  learnt  to  dis- 
tinguish many  creatures  and  objects  by  the  different  sounds 
they  produce.  The  eye  has  acquired  a  large  store  of 
adaptations.  Cheselden's  blind  youth,  if  such  a  meta- 
physical blind  being  really  existed,  is  already  far  advanced 
in  the  double  and  reciprocal  education  of  sight,  touch,  and 
muscle.  This  eye  has  no  longer  the  vacant  expression  of 
former  days  ;  its  look  seems  sometimes  to  go  through  one, 
it  moves  with  electric  rapidity  in  response  to  all  outward 
impressions,  of    whatever  nature ;   it  expresses  with  force 


22       THE  FIRST   THREE   YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

and  delicacy  all  the  various  shades  of  thought,  sentiment, 
and  will ;  it  is  conscious  of  what  it  is  expressing,  and  from 
time  to  time  it  does  so  with  intention. 

There  is  something  grand  and  dignified,  so  to  say,  in  the 
happy  astonishment  called  forth  in  the  eye  by  the  discovery 
of  a  new  fact,  and  in  the  confiding  and  steady  attention 
which  it  pays  to  the  slightest  words,  gestures,  or  looks  of  a 
person  who  is  speaking.  Laughter  and  tears,  which  are 
as  frequent  as  a  few  months  since,  are  now  more  often  and 
more  fully  expressive — intentionally  so  also — though  they 
do  not  always  express  the  sentiments,  and  above  all  the 
shades  of  sentiment,  which  they  are  intended  to  do  later 
on. 

As  for  the  hand,  the  human  org^xi  par  excellence,  the  stages 
of  its  progress  must  of  necessity  escape  the  analysis  of  an 
observer  attempting  to  record  them  ;  for  the  movements 
which  it  executes,  nearly  all  of  them  complicated,  and 
most  delicately  combined,  are  the  result  of  efforts  and 
acquirements,  and  degrees  of  perfection  which  have  gone  on 
from  hour  to  hour  during  long  months.  At  fifteen  months 
the  hand  can  already  touch  with  more  or  less  certain  dis- 
crimination and  appreciation;  it  can  sometimes  measure 
the  effort  required  by  the  nature  of  the  difficulty,  either 
known  or  inferred ;  the  fingers,  always  in  motion,  often 
double  themselves  up  to  distinguish  the  roughness  or 
smoothness  of  objects,  or  to  find  out  whether  they  are 
hot  by  skimming  the  surface.  The  fist  no  longer  closes 
with  automatic  indifference ;  it  now  expresses  anger,  shows 
an  intention  to  strike,  beat,  or  thump.  The  first  finger 
often  starts  out  by  itself,  and  is  stretched  forward  to  point 
out  or  name  objects ;  or  the  fingers  will  open  out  and 
the  hand  be  waved  gracefully  to  make  a  salute,  or  ener- 
getically to  repulse  anything  that  annoys.  In  short,  the 
hand  can  now  hold,  lift  up,  and  carry  weights  adapted  to 
the  strength  and  necessities  of  the  child ;  it  is  master  of 
the  playthings  which  are  its  owner's  treasure,  and,  what  is 
neither  the  easiest  nor  the  least  valuable  step  in  advance, 
it  can  carry  a  spoon  and  a  glass  more  or  less  skilfully  to 
its  mouth. 


CHAPTER   III. 

INSTRUCTIVE   AND    EMOTIONAL   SENSATIONS 

Sensations  may  be  studied  from  three  points  of  view, — the 
perceptive,  the  emotional,  and  the  instinctive;  that  is  to 
say,  in  the  perceptions  or  ideas  which  they  leave  behind 
them,  in  the  pleasant  or  painful  emotions  which  they 
occasion,  and  in  the  tendencies  or  inclinations  which  they 
engender.  We  will  begin  by  showing  the  order  of  the 
natural  development  of  perceptions  in  a  child,  as  far,  that 
is,  as  it  is  possible  to  observe  or  to  infer  it. 

''The  mind  of  man,"  says  Bacon,  "must  work  upon 
stuff."  Sensations  are  the  primary  matter  of  the  mind,  the 
determining  cause  of  our  ideas.  But  we  cannot  affirm  on 
the  evidence  of  facts  that  intellectual  operations  are,  like 
ideas,  engendered  by  the  medium  of  sensation.  If  we 
regard  sensations  as  a  particular  state  of  the  sensory  centres, 
ideas  as  special  modifications  of  the  intellectual  centre, 
and  the  various  operations  as  special  dispositions  of  the 
spiritual  organs,  the  one  and  the  other  tending  from  habit 
and  practice  to  reproduce  themselves,  and  to  excite  each 
other  mutually,  it  remains  to  be  proved,  with  the  help  of  the 
scalpel  and  the  microscope,  that  the  transformation,  for 
instance,  of  the  idea  into  attention,  produces  a  new  and 
persistent  disposition  of  molecules  in  the  tissues  and  cells 
of  the  brain.  No  observations  of  this  nature  have  yet  been 
made.     But  there  is  no  longer  any  doubt  in  the  mind  of 


24       THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

anatomists  and  physiologists,  that  the  play  of  our  faculties 
is  intimately  connected  with  the  perfection  of  the  instrument. 
"  Not  only  does  the  slightest  pathological  modification 
affect  tlie  whole  of  the  cerebral  functions,  but  we  find  these 
functions  increase  as  age  multiplies  the  cerebral  fibres  and 
cells,  or  complicates  their  relations  to  each  other.  Science 
has  not  yet  arrived  at  specifying  the  functions  of  each  fibre 
in  this  wonderful  labyrinth ;  they  count  by  thousands ;  most 
of  them  measure  less  than  the  thousandth  part  of  a  milli- 
metre; some  of  them  even  can  scarcely  be  seen  through 
the  best  microscopes."  i  It  is  the  condition  of  this  instrument 
in  the  new-born  child  that  we  want  to  understand. 

Comparative  psychology  and  physiology,  as  I  have 
already  said,  can  hardly  give  us  any  information  concerning 
the  state  of  the  centres  of  perception  during  the  first  period 
of  life.  Brain  anatomists,  however,  foresee  the  moment 
when  experiment  may  open  this  vast  field  to  human  thought. 
"It  would  be  extremely  interesting,"  says  Ferrier,  "to! 
ascertain  whether,  in  an  individual  born  blind,  the  sight  / 
centre  presents  any  peculiarities,  either  as  regards  the  formj 
of  the  cells  or  their  processes,  or  otherwise,  differing  fromj 
those  of  the  normal  brain.  If  such  were  detectable,  we 
should  come  near  arriving  at  the  characters  of  the  physical 
basis  of  an  idea."  ^  Dr.  Tarchanoff  has  made  some  experi- 
ments on  the  nerve  centres,  and  especially  on  the  psycho- 
motor centres  of  new-born  animals,  and  their  development 
under  different  conditions,  the  interesting  results  of  which 
I  will  give  here  in  his  own  words,  "  In  a  new-born  rabbit 
the  auditory  passage  of  the  ear  is  closed,  and  does  not 
begin  to  open  till  the  fifth  day  after  birth,  when  it  has  the 
appearance  of  a  very  fine  slit.  The  first  sign  of  a  slit 
between  the  eyelids  appears  towards  the  tenth  or  eleventh 
day ;  and  towards  the  twelfth  day,  in  most  cases,  the  eyes 
are  quite  open.  The  psychomotor  centres  generally  make 
their  appearance  towards  the  twelfth  or  thirteenth  day.     It 


^  G.  Pouchet,  Analyse  du  Livre  de  M.  Ribot  sur  VHeredite,  dans  le 
Journal  Le  Siede,  juin,  1873. 

2  David  Ferrier,  The  Functions  of  the  Brain,  p.  260. 


INSTRUCTIVE  AND   EMOTIONAL  SENSATIONS.    2$ 

is  the  motor  centres  of  the  jaw — the  centres  of  mastication 
— wlfich  develop  first  on  the  grey  cortex  of  the  brain. 
After  these,  the  motor  centres  of  the  anterior  paws  appear, 
and  three  or  four  days  later,  those  of  the  posterior  limbs. 
By  the  sixteenth  day,  all  the  psychomotor  centres  of  the 
rabbit  are  fully  developed.  An  almost  identical  order  of 
development  of  the  psychomotor  centres  has  been  described 
by  Soltman  in  the  dog." 

What  knowledge  have  we  of  the  condition  of  the  seat 
of  perception  or  ideation,  whether  visual,  auditory,  or 
even  motor,  in  new-born  infants  ?  Almost  none.  In  the 
first  place,  as  far  as  vision  is  concerned,  although  the  con- 
stituent parts  of  the  ocular  apparatus  may  be  sufficiently 
developed,  and  though  the  child  sometimes  shuts  its  eyes 
under  the  action  of  a  bright  light,  as  it  is  continually 
shutting  them,  it  is  difficult  to  draw  any  inferences  from  this 
as  regards  sight.  During  the  first  days  of  existence,  the 
immobility  of  the  pupils  and  of  the  iris  appears  to  indicate 
insensibility  of  the  retina  to  light.  It  is  however  probable 
that  it  soon  begins  to  distinguish  feebly  between  day  and 
night.  This  stage  is  generally  reached  by  the  end  of  the 
first  week.  A  few  days  after,  the  eyes  begin  to  follow  the 
direction  of  light,  and  of  candles.  But,  except  when  the 
child  is  sucking,  the  eyes  continually  wander ;  they  do  not 
fix  themselves  on  any  objects  or  follow  their  movements, 
which  is  a  proof  that  they  do  not  distinguish  them  better 
than  at  the  moment  of  birth.  They  do  not  begin  to  dis- 
tinguish objects  till  the  end  of  the  fourth  week,  and  then 
still  very  confusedly. 

We  know  that  newborn  babies  are  deaf,  the  external 
auditory  passage  being  closed,  and  the  cavity  of  the 
tympanum  containing  too  little  air.  But  we  are  ignorant 
as  to  whether  they  arrive  at  the  faculty  of  hearing  by  inter- 
mediate degrees,  or  by  a  sudden  bound,  their  auditory 
apparatus  becoming  all  at  once  sufficiently  developed  to 
fulfil  its  functions.  It  is  easy,  however,  to  observe  during 
the  first  fortnight  a  very  great  susceptibility -to  the  slightest 
sound  of  any  kind.  A  baby  shudders  and  blinks  its  eyes 
when  it  hears  any  sudden  noise,  a  door  being  closed,  a 


26      THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

piece  of  furniture  moved,  the  rolling  of  a  carriage,  a  sneeze, 
a  burst  of  laughter,  a  scream,  or  a  loud  song.  • 

As  regards  muscular  perceptions,  which,  as  we  have  said, 
are  no  doubt  faintly  begun  in  the  foetus,  their  progress  in 
number  and  differentiation  is  very  limited  during  the  first 
month.  Muscular  perceptions,  being  connected  with 
motivity,  are  still  very  rudimentary  at  this  period ;  but  this 
does  not  apply  to  the  other  muscular  sensations,  or  to 
cutaneous  sensations.  Young  infants,  being  continually 
subject  to  new  sensations  of  contact,  pressure,  and  tem- 
perature, are  able  to  retain  and  develop  sufficient  percep- 
tions, by  the  laws  of  integration  and  differentiation,  for 
the  faculty  of  localizing  sensations  from  external  causes 
in  the  different  parts  of  the  body  to  have  made  some  pro- 
gress at  an  early  period.  But  what  point  has  been  reached 
by  the  second  month  in  the  knowledge  of  external  objects? 
And,  first  of  all,  how  does  a  child  see  them  at  this  age  ? 

It  would  be  well,  perhaps,  to  ask  oneself  whether  a  little 
baby  a  month,  or  even  two  months,  old  sees  all  the  objects 
situated  in  the  field  of  vision.  Is  there  for  the  individual 
also  a  progressive  evolution  of  the  sense  of  colour,  as 
Gladstone  and  Magnus  assert  that  there  is  for  the  race? 
According  to  their  theory,  the  sense  of  colour  has  only 
been  developed  in  man  since  the  heroic  ages,  /.<?,,  about 
3,000  years.  The  ancients  before  Homer's  time  only  dis- 
tinguished light  as  brightness  and  colour.  As  the  education 
of  the  organ  progressed,  three  principal  colours  seem  to 
have  been  apprehended  by  it,  and  in  the  order  of  greater 
or  less  refrangibiUty,  viz.,  red,  green,  and  violet.  In  the 
second  phase  of  development,  the  sense  of  colour  becomes 
quite  distinct  from  the  sense  of  light.  Red  and  yellow, 
with  their  various  shades,  including  orange,  are  now  clearly 
distinguished.  The  characteristic  of  the  third  period  is  the 
power  of  distinguishing  colours  which,  as  regards  brilliancy, 
belong  to  neither  extreme  but  are  on  the  whole  varieties  of 
green.  Finally,  in  the  fourth  period  man  begins  to  dis- 
tinguish blue.  This  phase  is  still  going  on,  and  with  regard 
to  some  portions  of  humanity  is  not  yet  far  advanced ;  we 
ourselves,  indeed,  easily  confuse  blue  and  green  by  candle- 


INSTRUCTIVE  AND   EMOTIONAL   SENSATIONS.    2/ 

light.^  M.  G.  Atlen,  as  the  advocate  of  evolution  pure 
and  simple,  has  undertaken  the  refutation  of  the  theory  of 
historic  evolution ;  but  there  remains  still  the  ante- historic 
question.  The  formation  of  the  human  visual  organ  as  it 
exists  at  the  present  day,  and  the  development  of  the  sense 
of  colour,  can  only  be  explained  by  hereditary  transmission. 
Our  more  immediate  ancestors  of  the  pre-historic  age,  did 
they  see  the  same  colours  that  we  do  ?  Do  children  see 
colours  in  the  same  way  as  we  ourselves  ?  Certain  patho- 
logical facts  engendering  optical  illusions,  and  in  particular, 
Daltonism,  which  is  so  frequent  in  adults,  might  lead  us  to 
suppose,  considering  the  incompleteness  of  the  visual  organ 
and  the  optic  centres  in  new-born  children,  that  they  do  not 
see  all  colours  at  the  beginning  of  life,  that  the  sense  of 
certain  colours  is  perhaps  wanting  in  them  at  first,  and  that 
these  deficiencies  in  sight  vary  with  dififerent  individuals, 
and  in  each  individual  according  to  the  physiological  state 
of  the  organs,  and  even  according  to  the  day  and  the  hour. 

But  what  data  have  we  for  establishing  this  hypothesis  ? 
1  believe,  moreover,  that  the  value  of  chromatic  distinction 
is  of  little  importance  to  the  question  in  point.  The  non- 
distinction  of  colour  does  not  necessarily  imply  the  non- 
perception  of  light ;  and  it  is  by  their  degrees  of  light  and 
shade,  by  the  greater  or  less  intensity  of  the  impressions 
they  produce,  that  a  child  distinguishes  objects. 

It  is  probable  that  the  field  of  vision  only  opens  out 
gradually  to  a  child,  and  that  the  different  parts  of  it  are 
only  apprehended  by  him  according  to  the  degree  of 
intensity  of  their  light  or  colouring.  We  should  form  a 
wrong  idea  of  the  first  perceptions  of  children  if  we  suppose 
them  to  be  like  Cheselden's  blind  youth,  to  whom  different 
objects  placed  before  his  eyes  seemed  only  a  mass  of  colours 
spread  over  a  plane  surface.  Binocular  vision,  as  soon  as  it 
operates  with  regularity  of  adjustment,  produces  the  per- 
ception of  coloured  space  in  two  dimensions,  and  suggests 
the  idea  of  the  third  dimension.     This  power  is  increased 


*  See  the  interesting  review  of  M.  G.  Atlen's  book  by  M.  A.  Espinas, 
Revue  Philosophigue,  Jan.,  i88o. 


28      THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

in  the  child  by  the  simultaneous  seeing  and  touching  of 
things  brought  near  to  it,  but  the  progress  is  very  slow  up 
to  the  age  of  six  weeks.  Towards  the  end  of  the  second 
month,  however,  a  marked  improvement  begins.  First,  the 
child  pays  a  little  more  attention  to  the  impressions  whicli 
come  to  him.  His  tactile  and  muscular  functions  (the 
latter  especially)  proceeding  from  centres  more  fully 
developed,  bring  their  contingent  of  perceptions  indispens- 
able to  those  of  sight.  The  eye,  moreover,  has  grown  more 
mobile,  its  muscles  are  stronger,  and  it  opens  wider,  thus 
not  only  giving  an  enlarged  field  of  vision,  but  also  allowing 
the  formation  of  ideas  of  localization,  relief,  and  distance. 

That  all  these  ideas  are  still  very  confused  in  the  brain 
of  an  infant  of  two  months,  is  however  a  matter  of  course ; 
but  it  will  already  have  had  a  great  number  of  those 
muscular  experiences  on  which  the  formation  of  all  ideas  of 
outside  things,  and  above  all  the  distinction  between  the 
external  and  the  internal  depends.  Just  as  by  the  distinction 
between  his  own  cries  and  the  voices  of  others,  a  child  at 
once  conceives  as  distinct  from  himself  other  beings  capable 
of  making  themselves  heard  hke  himself,  so  the  muscular 
sensations  produced  by  movements  which  he  makes  himself 
are  distinguished  by  him  from  the  sensations  resulting  from 
movements  foreign  to  himself,  and  this  distinction  is  cor- 
roborated by  the  concomitant  sensations  of  sight,  which 
cause  him  to  see  foreign  bodies  in  motion.  His  progress 
in  mobility  thus  carries  with  it  progress  in  his  ideas  of  the 
separate  existence  of  things,  as  well  as  their  forms,  their 
relations  to  each  other,  and  their  distances.  By  the  age  of 
three  months  the  mobility  of  his  eyes,  neck,  and  arms  has 
increased,  and  hence  a  quantity  of  muscular  sensations 
combined  with  visual  ones,  which  result  in  a  clearer  dis- 
tinction of  all  the  ideas  of  which  we  are  speaking.  He 
also  begins  now  to  have  the  power  of  discerning, — I  do  not 
say  of  appreciating, — weight,  which  calls  into  play  the 
muscular  sense  of  effort,  and  above  all,  if  we  go  by  Ferrier, 
the  feeling  of  the  contraction  of  the  respiratory  organs.  ^ 

^  Ferrier,  The  Functions  of  the  Brainy  p.  358. 


INSTRUCTIVE   AND   EMOTIONAL  SENSATIONS.    29 

Mary,  at  the  age  of  three-and-a-half  months,  can  already 
distinguish  several  parts  of  her  body.  When  her  mother  says 
to  her,  "  Where  are  your  feet  ?  "  her  eyes  first  of  all  move 
uncertainly  to  right  and  left,  and  then,  bending  her  neck  for- 
ward, she  directs  them  towards  her  feet  She  plays  with  and 
fondles  her  mother;  when  her  mother's  face  is  bent  over 
hers,  she  seizes  it  with  her  little  fat  hands,  and  touches  and 
pats  it  with  an  evident  intention  of  showing  tenderness. 
"  She  chatters  to  the  flowers,"  to  quote  her  mother's  words. 
She  is  passionately  fond  of  colours,  especially  very  brilliant 
ones.  If  a  coloured  picture  is  shown  her,  she  makes  two 
or  three  sudden  starts,  and  then  holds  her  little  hands  out 
eagerly  towards  it,  palpitating  with  desire  or  pleasure,  her  eyes 
attentively  fixed,  her  face  beaming  with  joy,  and  uttering 
all  the  time  little  birdlike  cries.  But  seeing  is  not  enough ; 
she  soon  wants  to  handle  the  beautiful  object,  and  seizing  it 
with  both  her  hands  she  crumples  it  up  and  gazes  at  it  ad- 
miringly, but  without  seeing  anything  more  in  it  than  pretty 
colours.  The  word  picture  will  now  make  her  smile  from 
association  of  ideas  and  feelings.  She  is  very  fond  of  bab- 
bling to  the  birds,  with  whom  she  is  well  acquainted ;  and 
she  not  only  turns  towards  the  cage  when  the  canary  is 
singing,  but  also  when  he  is  quite  quiet,  if  her  mother  says 
to  her,  "  Where  is  Coco  ?     Listen  to  Coco." 

She  understands,  from  the  expression  of  the  face  and  the 
tone  of  the  voice,  when  she  is  being  scolded,  and  then  she 
wrinkles  up  her  forehead,  her  lips  twitch  convulsively  and 
pout  for  two  or  three  seconds,  her  eyes  fill  with  tears,  and 
she  is  on  the  point  of  sobbing.  She  is  very  sensitive  to 
caresses,  and  laughs  and  plays  with  every  one  who  laughs  and 
plays  with  her.  But  she  is  jealous  in  the  extreme.  If  her 
elder  sister  is  placed  beside  her  on  her  mother's  lap,  and 
the  mother  kisses  the  sister,  quite  a  tragic  scene  ensues  ;  for 
a  few  seconds  she  remains  still  with  her  eyes  fixed,  then  her 
mouth  begins  to  twitch,  her  eyes  fill  with  tears.  She  be- 
comes convulsed  with  sobs,  she  turns  away  her  head  so  as 
not  to  see  her  rival,  and  presents  for  some  minutes  the  picture 
of  misery.  She  behaves  precisely  in  the  same  manner  if 
her  mother  gives  her  sister  the  feeding-bottle,  or  if  the  latter 


30      THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

takes  it  up  from  the  table ;  but  when  the  mother  takes  the 
bottle  herself  and  pretends  to  suck  from  it,  she  instantly  re- 
covers her  serenity  :  it  seems  as  if  she  had  no  sense  of  egotism 
in  her  relations  with  her  mother. 

Let  us  take  another  child  of  different  sex  and  tempera- 
ment. Georgie  is  seven  months  old.  He  has  hardly  entered 
my  room  when  his  attention  is  vividly  excited  by  the  noisy 
movements  of  a  sparrow  hopping  up  and  down  in  its  cage 
close  to  the  window.  Then  he  fixes  his  eyes  steadily  for 
the  space  of  three  minutes  on  a  cat  lying  cuddled  up  at  the 
foot  of  an  arm-chair :  he  has  often  seen  cats  before. 

But  the  sparrow  sings  a  few  notes,  and  Georgie  looks 
round  on  all  sides,  not  knowing  whence  the  pleasant  sounds 
proceed.  I  call  him  by  his  name,  Georgie  ;  and  though  he 
has  never  heard  my  voice  before,  he  smiles  at  me  most 
sweetly.  The  next  thing  that  attracts  his  attention  is  a 
bunch  of  flowers  which  I  placed  on  a  table  near  him.  He 
stretches  out  his  arms  towards  these,  and  evidently  derives 
great  pleasure  from  looking  at  them;  but  his  delight  does  not 
manifest  itself  in  those  bounds  and  cries  and  outbursts  of  joy 
which  I  have  already  noticed  in  little  Mary  and  many  other 
children  of  the  same  age  (three-and-a-half  months)  under 
similar  circumstances.  Georgie  is  a  big,  fat  boy  of  Alsatian 
parentage,  chubby-faced,  grave,  slow,  and  obstinate ;  while 
Mary,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  pale,  slender,  animated,  spark- 
ling little  Parisian.  Ten  days  after  his  first  visit  to  me, 
Georgie  was  brought  into  my  room  for  a  second  "  sitting." 
This  time  he  amused  himself  with  making  jumps  at  my  cat. 
When  tired  of  this  game  he  stretched  himself  forward  to  seize 
a  plate  which  stands  in  the  middle  of  the  table ;  1  allowed 
him  to  reach  across  the  table  and  to  touch  the  plate ;  he 
handled  it  with  evident  gestures  of  pleasure,  and  his  face 
also  expressed  extreme  delight.  After  a  while  (I  supporting 
three-fourths  of  the  weight)  he  carried  it  to  his  mouth,  as  he 
does  with  all  objects  he  gets  hold  of  His  grandmother  has 
brought  him  up  with  a  bottle.  I  have  noticed  in  this  child, 
as  in  many  others,  a  quite  peculiar  tenderness  for  his  grand- 
mother, who  has  been  his  nurse.  The  instant  he  has  got 
hold  of  a  desired  object,  and  whenever  he  experiences  anj 


INSTRUCTIVE   AND    EMOTIONAL   SENSATIONS.    3 1 

pleasure  which  is  not  connected  with  eating,  he  turns  smil- 
ingly towards  her,  as  if  his  joy  were  not  complete  till  he 
had  shared  it  with  her.  Or  must  we  see  in  this  nothing 
more  than  a  mechanical  habit,  the  child  having  never  ex- 
perienced any  joy  without  his  grandmother  being  at  hand  to 
take  part  in  it  ? 

Thus  in  children  of  three-and-a-half  and  seven  months  we 
find  the  power  of  distinguishing  a  large  number  of  essential 
ideas.  They  can  distinguish  themselves  from  their  mother, 
their  grandmother,  their  sister,  myself,  a  bird,  a  cage,  a  cat,  a 
table,  a  plate,  etc.  But  even  at  seven  months  they  see  promi- 
nent details  better  than  whole  objects;  they  see  them  by  a 
kind  of  process  of  imaginative  abstraction^  by  means  of  which 
external  perceptions  come  to  them  as  scraps  of  colour. 
They  have  only  an  imperfect  appreciation  of  distance  and 
weight ;  an  object  a  little  way  off  must  be  very  bright  or 
very  sonorous,  for  their  curiosity,  even  when  excited  by 
craving,  to  fasten  upon  it. 

They  try  to  seize  objects  before  they  are  within  their 
reach  ;  they  will  put  out  a  whole  hand  and  all  their  strength 
to  take  up  a  bit  of  coloured  paper,  as  if  it  were  a  compact 
and  heavy  substance.  At  three  months  a  child  can  distin- 
guish his  feeding-bottle  by  its  form  and  colour ;  but  so  little 
does  he  compare,  that  he  will  seize  an  empty  or  a  full  bottle 
with  equal  eagerness.  At  seven  months  he  compares  better 
than  at  three ;  and  he  appears  at  this  age  to  have  visual 
perceptions  associated  with  ideas  of  kind;  for  instance,  he 
connects  the  different  flavours  of  a  piece  of  bread,  of  a  cake, 
of  fruit,  with  their  different  forms  and  colours.  At  one  or 
two  years  old,  when  his  curiosity  has  been  developed  by 
exercise,  by  the  continual  supply  of  fresh  emotions,  by  the 
growth  of  his  muscular  forces,  and  above  all  of  his  mobile 
and  locomotive  faculties,  his  power  of  comparison  is  very 
much  greater.  All  his  ideas  of  situation,  of  figure,  of  relief, 
of  distance,  and  of  weight  have  now  reached  such  a  pitch  of 
perfection  that  in  many  cases  they  are  nearly  equal  to  those 
of  an  adult.  But  many  are  the  illusions  he  will  suffer,  some- 
times consciously,  from  these  perceptions,  which  bring  into 
conflict  the  actual  sensations  of  sight  and  the  judgment  ac- 


32      THE   FIRST    THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

quired  from  outside.  Countless  experiences,  countless  errors, 
deceptions  vividly  felt,  will  have  to  be  gone  through  before 
the  child  can  arrive  at  the  summary  knowledge  of  the  ex- 
ternal world,  such  as  it  appears  to  the  eye  of  an  adult.  This 
knowledge,  in  point  of  fact,  has  no  limits ;  or  rather,  its  limits 
are  for  ever  receding  before  science. 

II. 

THE   FIRST   PERCEPTIONS. 

The  Sensations  of  Taste. — The  first  manifestations  of 
pleasure  in  little  children  are  connected  with  the  sense  of 
taste.  A  few  hours  after  birth,  hunger  makes  itself  known 
by  the  efforts  of  the  mouth,  as  if  to  seek  its  food,  and  its 
attempts  to  suck  any  object  presented  to  it,  and  by  wailings 
accompanied  with  lively  movements  of  the  arms.  During 
the  following  days,  when  the  infant  has  learnt  to  suck,  it 
will  remain  glued  to  the  breast,  and,  until  its  appetite  is  satis- 
fied, the  strongest  appeal  to  its  attention  will  not  disturb  it. 
There  is  no  doubt,  however,  that  after  the  child  has  sucked 
for  a  few  seconds  it  goes  on  doing  it  mechanically,  without 
any  feeling  of  pleasure  or  otherwise,  except  at  intervals,  its 
organs  being  for  the  present  incapable  of  feeling  a  sensation 
repeated  too  often.  The  sensation  of  taste  soon  ceases  to 
react  on  the  nerves  subject  to  its  influence,  and  after  a  cer- 
tain time  the  intervention  of  a  stronger  excitement  is  needed 
to  produce  a  reaction.  Greediness  then  comes  in  as  a 
stimulus,  and  in  a  child  is  as  legitimate  as  it  is  common. 

We  are  at  liberty  to  believe  that  the  sense  of  taste  is  very 
slightly  developed  in  a  child  just  born,  the  indirect  proof  of 
this  being  the  small  necessity  there  is  for  a  child  to  distin- 
guish flavours.  But  we  have  more  positive  reasons  also  for 
this  assumption ;  we  know  that  in  adults  the  sensations  of 
taste  are  mixed  up  with  sensations  of  smell  which  influence 
us  in  distinguishing  flavours.  "  If  our  nostrils  were  closed," 
says  Longet,  "  we  should  not  be  able  to  distinguish  vanilla 
cream  from  coffee  cream,  and  both  would  only  produce  a 
general  sensation  of  softness  and  sweetness."     But  also,  as 


OLFACTORY   SENSATIONS.  33 

Brillat-Savarin  has  told  us,  "  the  empire  of  flavour  has  its 
bhnd  and  its  deaf,  and  degrees  of  sapid  sensitiveness,  very- 
different  in  different  people,  are  seen  already  at  a  tender 
age."  In  some  cases  children  of  six  months  have  been  in- 
duced to  take  disagreeable  medicine  simply  by  a  change 
being  made  in  the  colour.  Others  again,  at  an  earlier  age, 
will  refuse  to  suck  from  their  mother,  or  from  particular 
nurses,  because  of  something  unpleasant  either  to  their 
sense  of  smell  or  taste.  Some  children  are  very  easily  dis-  \(2 
gusted.  I  have  seen  a  child  two  months  and  a  half  old  refuse 
its  bottle  determinately  and  with  a  face  of  disgust,  once 
because  it  was  filled  with  water,  and  another  time  because 
the  milk  was  not  sweetened.  Some  children  appear  sensi-  ^^ 
tive  to  all  impressions  of  taste,  whatever  they  may  be,  while 
others  again  are  indifferent  to  them.  A  member  of  my  family, 
when  a  child,  could  never  be  persuaded  by  her  mother  to 
taste  wine ;  and,  in  spite  of  the  advice  of  doctors,  she  has 
never  been  able  to  drink  anything  but  water.  Other  chil- 
dren, and  by  far  the  greater  number,  begin  very  early  to 
notice  the  acid  taste  in  certain  substances.  In  general, 
however,  children  very  easily  change  their  tastes,  which  is  a 
reason  for  not  forcing  them  to  eat  things  against  their  incli- 
nation when  there  is  no  necessity  for  it 

Olfactory  Sensations. — Children,  as  a  rule,  appear  to  re- 
main for  some  time  insensible  to  bad  smells.  The  pro- 
bability, however,  is,  that  they  are  only  less  sensitive  to 
them  than  adults  are,  and  that  their  olfactory  apparatus, 
the  delicate  organs  of  which  are  closely  related  to  the 
different  regions  of  the  brain,  are  not  highly  developed  in 
the  earlier  months.  This  would  not  be  at  all  surprising, 
as  the  olfactory  sense  seems  to  be  of  no  use  whatever  to 
the  nursing  child.  Possibly  also,  as  odours  are  variable 
and  fleeting  in  their  nature,  it  may  require  a  practised 
judgment  to  distinguish  the  sensations  produced  by  them, 
and  to  refer  them  to  the  right  objects  and  causes.  To 
know  the  origin  of  a  sensation,  is  to  be  al^e  to  single  it 
out  from  the  concomitant  sensations. 

Nevertheless  certain  specialist  doctors  have  assured  me 
that  new-born  infants  are  impressed  by  smells,  and  I   have 

D 


34      THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

had  cited  to  me  the  cases  of  a  child  of  six  weeks,  and 
another  of  two  months,  who,  in  refusing  or  in  taking  the 
breast  of  certain  nurses,  were  guided  only  by  the  smell  of  their 
perspiration.  Tiedemann,  whose  son  at  the  age  of  thirteen 
days  had  rejected  different  medicines  after  having  tasted  them 
several  times,  supposes  that  "  he  distinguished  them  from 
his  food  by  their  smell."  A  son  of  Darwin's  thirty-two  days 
old,  "  recognised  its  mother's  breast  at  a  distance  of  75  to  100 
millimetres,  as  the  movement  of  its  lips  and  the  fixity  of 
its  eyes  testified;"  and  Darwin  assumes  that  sight  and  touch 
had  nothing  to  do  with  this,  and  that  the  child  was  guided 
by  the  sensation  of  heat,  or  by  the  smell.  But  scientific  ob- 
servations concerning  smell,  both  from  the  emotional  and 
the  cognitive  point  of  view,  are  very  incomplete,  even  when 
coming  from  the  most  competent  people. 

An  infant  of  fifteen  days,  one  month,  or  two  months, 
manifests  only  visual  or  tactile  sensations  in  the  presence 
of,  or  in  contact  with,  a  rose,  a  lily,  a  geranium,  or  a  nose- 
gay of  flowers ;  but  I  would  not  affirm  that  it  experiences  no 
r.ther  sensations.  I  have  subjected  a  certain  number  of 
rliildren  between  the  ages  of  ten  and  fifteen  months,  to 
experiments  relating  to  the  olfactory  sensations,  and  all  of 
them, — excepting  one  who  was  insensible  to  any  smells,  even 
those  of  tobacco  and  ether, — felt  the  different  olfactory  im- 
pressions very  vividly.  One  child  of  ten  months  seemed 
to  me  to  be  very  sensitive  to  pleasant  smells  and  very 
much  annoyed  by  bad  ones.  When  I  prevented  his  seizing 
hold  of  a  rose,  or  a  bunch  of  violets,  which  I  had  held  close 
to  his  nose,  his  expression  and  his  gestures  evidently  begged 
me  to  give  them  to  him.  When  I  again  held  them  up  to 
Ins  nose,  he  remained  some  time  quite  motionless,  smiling 
with  pleasure  ;  in  short,  he  seemed  to  appreciate  and  delight 
in  pleasant  scents.  As  we  said  above,  there  are  some  kinds 
of  food  which  not  only  impress  the  organs  of  taste  (affording 
us  the  sensations  described  as  sweet,  saline,  sour,  acid,  bitter, 
etc.),  but  which  also  act  on  the  olfactory  nerves, — chocolate 
and  coftee,  for  instance, — and  these  this  child  was  extrava- 
gantly fond  of ;  and  it  certainly  appreciated,  as  thoroughly  as 
a  grown-up  person  could,  the  perfumes  of  cocoa  and  mocha. 


ORGANIC  SENSATIONS.  35 

I  have  seen  two  other  children  of  the  same  age  who  cared 
less  for  the  perfume  of  a  rose  or  of  mignonette,  by  which 
the  ahmentary  organs  are  not  affected,  than  they  did  for 
the  smell  of  chocolate.  Odours  connected  with  food  are 
apt,  as  we  can  easily  conceive,  to  take  rank  before  odours 
pure  and  simple  with  the  inexperienced  sensibility  of  a 
child,  while  the  contrary  is  frequently  the  case  with  adults. 
The  ancients  crowned  themselves  with  roses  at  their  ban- 
quets ;  and  we  ourselves  often  deck  our  dinner-tables  with 
flowers,  or  at  any  rate  we  generally  have  about  us  delicate 
perfumes  which  do  not  impair  the  flavour  of  the  wines  and 
viands. 

Organic  Sensations. — Bain  has  given  this  name  tp  those 
sensations  which  arise  from  the  diverse  dispositions  and 
affections  of  our  bodies  and  which  all  become  fused  into 
the  vital  or  fundamental  sense — the  general  sensation  of 
existence  and  the  immediate  sensation  of  our  own  body, 
which  is,  according  to  Luys,  the  sum  of  all  nervous  actions, 
and,  as  it  were,  the  organic  basis  of  consciousness.  To  the 
organic  sense  are  to  be  referred  the  respiratory  sensations, 
which  we  have  already  spoken  of,  the  sensations  of  the 
circulation  and  nutrition,  the  organic  sensations  of  the  nerves 
and  the  muscles,  such  as  fatigue,  pain  from  a  cut  or  a 
scratch,  cramps,  spasms,  etc.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
children,  with  their  incomplete  organisms  and  imperfect 
powers  of  adjustment,  frequently  suff'er  from  these  different 
kinds  of  pain,  especially  during  the  first  period  of  existence. 
It  is  less  evident  that  they  experience  corresponding  sensa- 
tions of  pleasure,  the  latter  being  only  equivalent  to  a 
passive  state  of  functional  regularity  and  general  well-being 
which  is  not  expressed  by  violent  signs. 

The  state  of  comfort  resulting  from  regular  breathing  is 
one  of  these  passively  pleasurable  sensations  which  children 
have  most  experience  of  In  fact,  respiration  being  more 
ictive  in  infancy  than  in  adult  life,  and  the  frequency  of 
inspiration  in  chilciren  causing  them  greater  need  of  oxygen, 
they  must  on  the  one  hand  have  their  attention  a  good 
deal  excited  by  this  respiratory  action,  on  account  of  the 
rapid  modifications  which  it  causes  in  their  organs  ;  and,  on 


36      THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

the  other  hand,  the  quality  and  temperature  of  the  air 
breathed  must  afford  them  sensations  corresponding  to  the 
freshness  and  appetition  of  their  respiratory  organs.  We 
know,  moreover,  that  even  before  the  age  of  a  month  there 
is  nothing  more  salutary  or  enjoyable  to  infants  than  to  be 
carried  out  into  the  open  air. 

If  we  admit  that  there  is  an  organic  and  automatic  con- 
sciousness always  watching  over  all  the  internal  and  external 
parts  of  a  young  infant,  we  may  also  class  among  its  happy 
sensations  those  which  regular  sleep  afford  it.  Sound 
slumber  in  a  child  implies  healthy  and  thorough  nutrition, 
and  perfect  harmony  of  all  its  functions.  Not  only  is  sleep 
the  necessary  condition  of  the  growth  of  the  organs,  and  of 
moral  and  intellectual  development,  which  depends  less  on 
the  impressions  received  than  on  the  perceptions  digested 
and  consolidated,  but  it  is  the  greatest  boon  that  nature 
bestows  on  children  before  the  age  of  eager  curiosity  and 
easy  locomotion. 

Muscular  Sensations. — I  have  already  had  occasion  to 
speak  of  a  sense  to  which  a  certain  number  of  the  tactile 
properties  of  bodies  have  been  transferred — the  muscular 
sense  ;  which,  in  the  opinion  of  Renouvier,  is  only  an  hypo- 
thesis, but  the  existence  of  which  Bain  and  Wundt  believe 
they  have  established  by  irrefutable  experiments.  To  this 
"  interior  contact "  are  usually  referred  all  sensations  of 
pressure,  weight,  traction,  and  even  resistance ;  it  is  re- 
garded as  the  conscious  centre,  not  only  of  muscular  con- 
tractions, but  even  of  the  state  of  the  muscles,  and,  in  a 
lesser  degree,  of  the  state  of  the  articulations  o-f  the  skin 
accompanying  muscular  contractions. 

Whatever  be  the  origin  and  whatever  the  centre  of  these 
sensations,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  there  result  from  them 
sensations  of  pleasure  or  pain  of  a  particular  sort,  inde- 
pendent of  the  moral  pleasure  or  displeasure  resulting  from 
desires  more  or  less  keen  and  more  or  less  perfectly  satisfied. 
An  effort  pleases  in  itself  when  it  is  not  too  violent ;  it 
may  then  be  said  that  sensations  of  pressure,  of  weight,  of 
muscular  efforts,  are  agreeable  to  children  when  not  beyond 
their  strength,  and  more  or  less  disagreeable  to  them  in  the 


MUSCULAR  AND  THERMAL  SENSATIONS.  37 

contrary  case.  These  sensations  are  also  all  the  more 
agreeable  the  more  they  are  varied.  Each  limb,  and  each 
organ  is  capable  of  an  infinite  number  of  movements  which 
produce  in  the  owner  the  personal,  although  perhaps  un- 
conscious, sense  of  his  own  activity  and  existence.  How 
many  muscles  are  put  into  play  successively  or  simultane- 
ously by  the  simple  action  of  dragging  along  a  ball  tied  to 
a  piece  of  string  !  And  in  the  matter  of  a  weight,  however 
small,  to  be  lifted  or  held  up,  it  is  not  only  the  muscles  of 
the  back,  shoulders,  neck,  or  arm  which  are  exerted,  but  also 
a  certain  number  of  respiratory  muscles.  Ferrier  seems  in 
fact  to  have  demonstrated  that  the  sense  of  effort  necessary 
for  the  discernment  of  a  heavy  weight  "  would  be  more 
correctly  assigned  to  the  region  of  the  respiratory  muscles." 
This  sensation  of  weight,  which  precedes  the  appreciation 
of  weight,  is  thus  a  muscular  phenomenon  of  such  complexity 
that  the  Lost  of  sensations  which  result  from  it  must  deeply 
affect  the  muscular  consciousness,  or  the  centre  where  the 
attributes  of  that  consciousness  are  located.  The  pleasure 
of  a  state  of  equilibrium  and  health,  the  pleasure  of  moderate 
and  appropriate  exercise  when  he  moves  his  own  limbs  or 
they  are  moved  for  him,  such  are  the  enjoyable  sensations 
which  unconscious  infants  experience  every  day.  But  on  the 
other  hand,  how  many  disagreeable  and  hurtful  sensations 
do  not  we  ourselves  cause  them,  without  being  aware  of  it. 

Thermal  Sensations. — The  sensations  of  heat  and  cold 
depend  essentially  on  the  difference  of  temperature  between 
our  organs  and  the  surrounding  atmosphere,  the  radiating 
body  and  the  body  in  contact— either  the  air  or  any  object 
whatever.  When  the  disproportion  is  only  moderate,  there 
results  an  agreeable  sensation  of  warmth  or  coolness,  as  the 
case  may  be ;  when  it  exceeds  certain  limits,  it  causes  pain 
and  at  the  same  time  more  or  less  serious  trouble  in  the 
depths  of  organic  life.  In  spite  of  the  incomplete  develop- 
ment of  their  *'  plexus  "  and  nerve  centres,  children,  from  the 
delicacy  of  their  epidermic  tissues,  their  slight  degree  of 
nutritive  activity,  and  the  smallness  of  their  bulk,  are  pre- 
disposed to  very  great  susceptibility  to  temperature.  We 
have  already  seen  that  the  foetus  is  very  sensitive  to  high  or 


38      THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS  OF   CHILDHOOD. 

low  temperature.  With  all  new-born  animals,  the  tendency 
to  suffer  from  cold  is  very  great,  and  they  are  very  apt  to 
die  of  cold  even  in  summer,  if  out  of  reach  of  the  sun. 

The  pleasure  which  young  children  derive  from  sensa- 
tions of  warmth  is  so  evident  that  it  is  needless  to  dwell  on 
it.  But  we  may  legitimately  ask  whether  the  sensations  of 
cold  which  cause  death  to  so  many  are  as  painful  to  them 
as  they  would  be  to  older  children  or  adults.  My  own 
opinion  is,  that  very  young  children  suffer  less  in  reality 
than  we  should  expect,  considering  the  sensitiveness  of  their 
organisation  to  such  impressions.  Sensations  of  the  above 
nature  are  generally  modified  in  the  adult  by  judgments, 
habits,  and  sentiments  of  diverse  and  variable  kinds  which 
a  rise  or  fall  of  some  degrees  may  awaken  in  them.  A 
sentry  on  duty  during  a  hard  frost  will  possibly  have 
thoughts  in  his  mind  which  may  counterbalance  the  keen 
sensations  of  cold,  or  may  make  reflections  and  comparisons, 
call  up  recollections,  indulge  in  imaginations,  which  will 
have  the  result  of  making  the  cold  more  painful  to  him  than 
to  a  child  of  two  months,  or  only  a  few  weeks,  exposed 
perhaps  on  a  doorstep  a  few  paces  from  him.  It  is  needless 
to  insist  on  a  fact  patent  to  all,  viz.,. that  the  individual 
constitution,  and  the  accidental  state  of  health  augment  or 
diminish,  in  children  as  well  as  in  adults,  the  susceptibility 
of  which  we  are  speaking. 

Sensations  of  Touch. — The  sense  of  touch  is  a  means  of 
preservation  before  it  becomes  a  means  of  instruction  ;  and 
we  know  that,  like  the  muscular  and  thermal  senses,  it 
operates  already  in  the  womb  under  the  action  of  the 
pressure  of  a  hand  or  of  heat  or  cold  air.  At  the  moment 
of  birth  cutaneous  sensibility  is  very  acute,  and  the  child 
seems  to  show,  either  by  a  happy  state  of  quiescence  or  by 
cries  and  convulsions,  that  the  contact  with  outward  objects 
causes  it  pleasure  or  pain. 

The  sensation  of  resistance  is  considered  by  some  to  be 
the  fundamental  sensation  of  touch.  The  intensity  of  this 
sensation,  and  the  modifications  of  which  it  is  capable, 
according  to  the  nature  of  the  objects  which  cause  the 
impressions,  will  produce  in  children  feelings  that  are  either 


SENSATIONS   OF  TOUCH.  39 

really  painful  or  simply  annoying  and  irritating ;  such  are 
the  feelings  of  tickling,  rubbing,  bandaging,  pricking,  etc. 
Sensations  of  contact  which  seem  to  us  insignificant  cause 
a  child  great  uneasiness,  and  will  cause  it  to  make  faces, 
to  scream,  to  wriggle  its  body,  to  toss  its  arms  about  and 
carry  them  automatically  to  its  face.  A  feather  passed 
over  the  eyes  and  nose  of  a  child  fifteen  days  old  made 
it  frown,  contract  its  nose  obliquely,  and  close  its  eyes. 
Other  children  again,  at  an  older  age,  are  insensible  to  this 
kind  of  excitation. 

As  to  the  pleasant  sensations  of  touch,  it  is  not  so  easy 
to  tabulate  their  signs  (though,  as  we  have  said,  they  are 
very  evident)  in  children  less  than  two  months  old.  Light 
and  delicate  pressure,  the  contact  of  a  soft  skin  or  material, 
do  not  call  up  in  the  face  any  decided  expression  of 
pleasure,  a  smile  or  movement  of  the  eyes.  Infants,  how- 
ever, are  not  insensible  to  this  kind  of  sensations,  which 
signify  to  them  already  the  presence  of  certain  objects ;  it 
is  impossible  but  that  they  should  produce  in  the  little 
creatures  some  vague  sensations  of  comfort,  in  spite  of  their 
inability  to  localize  or  differentiate  them.  Later  on,  experi- 
ence and  comparison  will  have  taught  them  to  distinguish 
these  sensations  from  the  more  violent  ones  which  cause 
pain  or  annoyance.  But  at  the  age  of  two  months,  when  a 
child  appears  to  enjoy  the  touch  of  my  hand  stroking  its 
own  hand,  or  cheek,  or  forehead,  is  it  the  contact  itself 
which  pleases  it,  and  even  makes  it  smile,  or  is  it  the  idea 
of  its  mother's  breast  which  the  contact  of  the  skin  calls  up, 
or  the  pleasure  resulting  from  the  sensation  of  temperature  ? 
Possibly  all  these  at  the  same  time.  Soon  too  the  sym- 
pathetic significance  of  caresses,  which  babies  are  not  slow 
in  understanding,  begins  to  afford  them  very  evident  pleasure 
in  connection  with  tactile  sensations.  ^However  this  may 
be,  and  notwithstanding  the  absence  of  signs  indicating  it, 
I  incline  to  believe  that  tactile  pleasure  is  experienced  at  a 
very  early  period.  >  There  is  no  doubt  about  it  in  the  case 
of  young  animals.  If  I  pass  my  finger,  gently,  and  several 
times  in  succession,  over  the  head  of  a  sparrow  ten  days 
old,  it  will  almost  close  its  eyes,  and  with  its  head  bent 


\ 


\ 


40      THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

down  it  will  put  itself  into  a  position  favourable  to  the 
continuance  of  this  pleasant  process.  The  same  thing 
happens  with  kittens  and  puppies.  And  why  should  it 
not  be  the  same  also  with  young  children  ? 

Visual  Sensations. — We  cannot  but  regard  as  exaggeration 
Tiedemann's  statement  concerning  his  son,  who,  when 
scarcely  thirteen  days  old,  he  tells  us,  showed,  both  in  his 
eyes  and  his  general  coitntenance,  expressions  of  pain  or 
pleasure  at  the  sight  of  certain  objects,  and  paid  sustained 
attention  to  the  gestures  of  people  who  spoke  to  him.  But 
to  keep  within  well-established  Umits,  we  may  without 
audacity  affirm  that  at  the  age  of  a  month  or  forty  days  a 
child  has  already  experienced  a  certain  number  of  pleasures 
and  pains  suggested  by  visual  impressions.  The  pleasures 
consist  in  the  sensatiofts  caused  by  luminous  objects — candles, 
lamps,  the  flames  of  the  fire,  the  sunlight,  brightly  coloured 
objects,  and  the  lights  and  shadows  caused  by  moving  them 
about.  The  pains  are  caused  by  impressions  of  too  violent 
a  nature,  colours  which  are  too  bright,  sounds  which  are 
too  noisy,  objects  brought  too  abruptly  in  contact  with  the 
retina,  or  too  rapidly  shaken  in  front  of  it,  and  also  by  the 
moral  annoyance  which  must  result  from  imperfect  adapta- 
tion to  one's  surroundings,  or  at  any  rate  the  physical  pain 
arising  from  efforts  after  normal  adjustment.  This  latter 
hypothesis  seems  to  me  indeed  to  rest  on  grave  analogies. 
It  is  unfortunately  not  true  that  the  progressive  adaptation  of 
the  young  human  being  to  the  surroundings  for  which  it  is 
hereditarily  constituted  takes  place  by  successive  steps,  with 
gentle  transitions  and  providential  management.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  sufferings  of  a  human  being  are  all  the 
greater  in  proportion  to  his  weakness.  With  regard  to 
intellectual  perception,  the  organs  may  exercise  themselves 
usefully  according  to  their  strength;  but  the  same  caiinot 
be  said  of  sensibiUty  relatively  to  pleasure.  As  Rousseau 
has  said,  "  Much  time  is  needed  for  learning  to  see,"  and 
imperfect  sight  is  necessarily  accompanied  by  painful  sen- 
sations, like  all  other  ill-satisfied  needs- 
Visual  impressions  do  not  produce  in  children  the  same 
emotions  of  pain  or  pleasure,  nor  perhaps  so  great  a  number 


VISUAL  AND  AUDITORY  SENSATIONS.  4I 

\ 

of  them,  as  in  adults.  All  colours,  it  is  true,  attract  and  \ 
fascinate  them  ;  subdued  colours,  also,  are  not  always  in- 
different to  them,  and  sometimes  they  afford  them  evident 
pleasure,  provided  they  are  distinct  and  contrasted  with 
brighter  ones,  as  black  on  grey,  or  even  grey  on  white,  and 
provided,  above  all,  that  the  child's  organism  is  impressible. 
I  saw  a  little  girl  of  three  months  and  a  boy  of  five  months 
delighted  with  some  drawings  of  a  uniformly  grey  colour. 
The  boy  took  a  particular  fancy  to  some  lithographs  in 
black  and  white ;  it  was  enough  to  say  the  word  "  picture  " 
to  him,  for  his  eyes  to  turn  to  the  part  of  my  room  where 
these  lithographs  hung.  Another  child  of  six  months  only 
evinced  pleasure  at  the  sight  of  bright-coloured  pictures  and 
flowers ;  but  these  seemed  to  delight  him  quite  as  much  as 
they  did  the  other  children.  The  conclusion  I  came  to 
was,  that,  owing  either  to  hereditary  causes  or  to  personal 
habits,  there  was  less  energy  in  his  visual  organs,  or  that  his 
moral  sensibility  was  not  so  easily  excited  by  the  sensation 
of  colour  as  that  of  his  two  companions. 

It  would  not  be  very  easy  to  discern  in  a  child  between 
the  ages  of  one  day  and  five  months  the  painful  emotions 
produced  by  certain  colours,  although  it  is  incontestably 
established  that  the  visual  organs  have  adaptive  powers, 
and  also  without  doubt  likes  and  dislikes.  I  have  not 
succeeded  in  discerning  in  children  of  this  age,  or  even  in 
much  older  ones,  any  trace  of  those  affective  predispositions 
of  sight,  the  result  of  difterences  of  organisation,  which 
express  themselves  unconsciously  in  adults  in  marked 
preferences  for  such  and  such  colours. 

The  pleasures  and  pains  of  sight  are  possibly  in  great 
measure  artificial  phenomena  with  adults.  But  with  chil- 
dren who  go  on  for  a  long  time  without  any  distinct  ideas 
all  the  utility  or  the  hurtfulness  of  different  objects;  all 
objects  whatever  are  in  their  eyes  merely  moving  colours, 
all  of  which  give  them  pleasure  as  soon  as  they  produce  im- 
pressions on  their  visual  organs. 

Auditory  Sensations. — Infants  are  very  early  excited  by 
sound,  by  musical  instruments  or  song.  Tiedemann's  son 
heard  the  piano  played  for  the  first  time  when  he  was  forty 


42      THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

days  old,  and  he  is  said  to  have  shown  singular  delight 
and  excitement  at  the  sound.  A  young  relation  of  mine 
delighted  in  hearing  singing  or  playing  when  only  a  month 
old.  At  the  age  of  six  months  he  was  taken  on  a  visit  to 
some  aunts ;  and  the  strong  emotion  produced  in  him  by 
the  songs  they  sang  to  him  was  manifest  from  the  bright- 
ness of  his  eyes  and  the  immobility  and  heightened  colour 
of  his  face.  The  younger  one  sang  to  him  first,  and  he 
listened  to  her  with  evident  delight ;  but  when  the  other 
sister  joined  in,  with  her  more  vibrating  and  more  melodious 
voice,  he  instantly  turned  to  her,  and  an  undefinable  ex- 
pression of  admiration  and  surprise  came  over  his  counten- 
ance. All  children  are  not  equally  sensitive  to  melody  ; 
but  all  clear,  ringing  sounds,  especially  if  reiterated  more 
or  less  rhythmically,  seem  to  amuse  them  when  they  do  not 
strike  too  violently  against  the  tympanum.  I  have  seen 
many  infants  of  two  months  whom  noises  of  medium  in- 
tensity,— the  sound  of  a  door  being  shut,  a  footstep,  a  voice, 
the  bark  of  a  dog  close  by, — did  not  seem  to  affect  in  any 
way  whatever.  But  at  four  or  six  months  almost  all  babies 
like  being  sung  to,  and  a  great  many  try  to  warble  them- 
selves, from  instinct  or  love  of  imitating.  We  may,  then, 
conclude  that  there  are  sounds  which  are  pleasant  and 
sounds  which  are  unpleasant  to  children,  according  as  their 
vibrations  correspond  to  certain  conformations  of  the 
acoustic  apparatus,  or  to  certain  inherent  states  of  the 
personality,  or  awaken  concordant  emotions  in  the  mysteri- 
ous recesses  of  their  hereditary  sensorium. 

However  it  may  be,  children  become  soonest  accustomed 
to  those  very  noises  which  at  first,  for  one  reason  or  another, 
impressed  their  tympanum  disagreeably.  Startling,  piercing, 
scraping  noises  are  not  so  disagreeable  to  them  as  to  grown 
people.  They  will  shudder,  it  is  true,  on  hearing  them,  and 
sometimes  cry  if  the  noise  is  very  loud  and  near ;  but  few 
sounds  displease  them  on  moral  grounds,  or  by  reason  of 
the  association  of  ideas  which  makes  noises  call  up  the 
idea  of  objects  known  to  be  disagreeable.  They  are  not 
more  particular  about  melody,  either,  than  bees,  serpents, 
monkeys,  and  other  animals,  to  whom  the  most  rude  and 


AUDITORY   SENSATIONS.  ,     43 

deafening  noise,  providing  it  is  rhythmical,  is  as  good  as 
music.  From  the  moment  that  children  can  hold  things 
in  their  hands,  anything  that  they  produce  sound  with  de- 
lights them,  and  they  are  evidently  as  happy  as  they  can 
be  in  the  execution  of  these  feats.  I  can  never  see  little 
children  doing  their  best  to  deafen  themselves  and  others 
without  being  reminded  of  the  monkey  musicians  of  Africa, 
of  which  Houzeau  writes : — "  The  noise  of  these  animals 
is  not  always  the  mere  accidental  result  of  the  play  of  their 
organs,  it  is  sometimes  produced  intentionally;  they  will 
make  a  noise  for  the  love  of  the  noise,  and  as  a  means 
of  amusing  and  exciting  themselves.  I  am  not  alluding  to 
the  ordinary  sounds  with  which  tropical  forests  resound — 
deafening  screams,  the  crashing  of  broken  branches,  the 
pecking  of  beaks  on  the  bark  of  trees,  the  cracking  of  nuts 
in  the  teeth— which  are  the  natural  result  of  the  existence 
and  occupations  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  woods.  I  mean 
the  sounds  which  are  produced  by  monkeys  with  as  deter- 
mined an  intention  as  that  of  a  bell-ringer  or  a  player  on 
the  drum.  The  black  chimpanzees  of  Africa,  for  instance^ 
will  assemble  together  as  many  as  twenty,  thirty,  or  fifty, 
and  amuse  themselves  not  only  with  uttering  shrieks,  but 
by  beating  and  thumping  on  dead  wood  with  small  sticks 
held  in  their  hands  or  feet."  ^ 

^  Houzeau,  Les  Facultes  Mcntales  des  Atiimaux^  etc.,  t.  ii.,  p.  lo6. 


CHAPTER  IV, 

GENERAL   AND    SPECIAL    INSTINCTS. 

In  man  as  in  animals,  instinct  manifests  itself  in  congenital 
dispositions  to  perform  certain  definite  actions  under  certain 
special  circumstances.  These  dispositions  to  produce  given 
actions  are  the  tendencies  which  make  up  our  natural  and 
hereditary  constitution.  It  is  the  unconscious  experience 
of  our  ancestors  adapting  itself  with  more  or  less  con- 
sciousness or  freedom  to  the  individual  experience  of  theii 
descendants.  It  is  necessary  to  insist  on  these  mysterious 
impulses  of  organic  and  psychic  activity,  and  to  set  forth 
their  true  nature,  in  order  that  we  should  not  be  tempted 
to  look  on  animals  as  mere  machines,  set  in  motion  once 
for  all  at  the  beginning  of  Hfe,  and  on  children  (with  the 
exception  that  they  have  reason  in  addition)  as  animals, 
with  analogous,  and  perhaps  rather  inferior  instincts. 

The  best  treatises  of  current  philosophy,  whether  intended 
to  awaken  in  the  young  generation  or  to  perfect  in  the 
more  erudite  a  sense  of  psychological  observation,  still 
represent  instinct  as  having  the  following  characteristics  : — 
ignorance  of  the  end  in  view,  immediate  perfection  of  spe- 
cial actions,  infallibility,  immobility,  and  uniformity  in  these 
actions.  To  be  quite  just,  however,  we  must  own  that 
M.  Janet  does  not  recognise  "  in  these  characteristics  abso- 
lute and  inflexible  laws."^  He  admits  as  a  fact  of  experience 
that  instinct  may  vary  "  under  the  influence  of  certain 
circumstances,  though  within  very  narrow  limits  and  in 
exceptional  cases;"  in  a  word,  that  these  modifications  are 


Janet,    Traite  Elementaire  de  Philosophies  t.  i.,  p.  37. 

44 


GENERAL  AND  SPECIAL  INSTINCTS.  45 

nothing  else  than  "  an  innate  power  of  adaptation  of  the 
animal  to  its  surroundings,"  and  that  they  only  occur  in 
very  secondary  details. 

Let  us  first  endeavour  to  show  what  part  ignorance,  or 
rather  unconsciousness,  plays  in  the  working  of  instinct. 
It  is  perfectly  evident  that  not  one  of  the  movements  of  the 
foetus  can  be  explained  by  reason,  or  intelligent  will,  or 
experience.  They  do  not  proceed  from  consciousness, 
considered  as  an  impulsive  cause,  although  they  may  be 
supposed  to  provoke  the  exercise  of  consciousness.  When, 
shortly  after  its  birth,  we  see  a  little  baby  feeling  after  its 
mother's  breast,  and  co-ordinating  the  movements  of  its 
mouth,  head,  and  neck  so  as  to  suck  in  the  milk  ;  when  it 
combines  the  actions  of  the  tongue,  palate,  and  pharynx, 
which  co-operate  in  the  process  of  deglutition;  when,  a 
little  later  on,  it  presses  its  little  fingers  and  fists  against  the 
breast,  in  order  to  facilitate  the  passage  of  the  milk,  when 
the  combined  and  harmonious  action  of  all  these  numerous 
organs  produces  respiration  ;  when  the  eyelids  close  if  the 
conjunctiva  be  touched,  or  if  too  intense  a  light  disturbs 
the  retina,  or  a  violent  sound  shocks  the  ear ;  when 
irritation  of  the  face,  ears,  or  tongue  causes  contraction 
of  the  muscles,  etc.,  etc.,  we  know  that  neither  experience 
nor  reason  have  taught  the  little  creature  these  movements, 
which  are  accomplished  with  a  precision  far  superior  to 
what  we  find  in  actions  where  the  will  intervenes.  Both 
children  and  young  animals  perform  all  these  actions  with- 
out knowing  either  their  object  or  the  means  by  which 
they  are  executed  ;  but  they  are  aware  of  what  they  are 
doing,  and  the  more  they  advance  in  knowledge  the  more 
fully  will  they  be  aware  of  it,  and  the  more  they  will  realize 
the  means  to  the  end,  and  the  end  associated  with  the 
means.  The  impulses  are  arbitrary  and  unconscious,  but 
the  actions  have  a  constant  tendency  to  revert  to  their 
original  nature,  which  may  often  have  been  conscious  and 
even  voluntary. 

Let  us  proceed  to  consider  the  immediate  perfection  of 
instinctive  actions.      "  Animals,"  says  M.  Joly,  "  generally 


46      THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

succeed  the  first  time,  without  any  preliminary  attempts  and 
faikires.  Birds  have  no  need  to  study  in  order  to  make 
their  nests.  Carnivorous  animals  feel  no  hesitation  when 
they  find  themselves  for  the  first  time  in  the  presence  of  the 
prey  destined  by  nature  for  them  ;  and  amongst  the  herbs 
of  a  meadow  ruminants  will  go  straight  to  those  adapted  to 
them."  This  perfection  and  infaUibility  of  animal  instinct 
are  very  much  exaggerated.  The  assertion  is  true  in 
general  with  regard  to  the  principal  mechanical  functions 
of  life,  the  most  delicate  and  indispensable  organic  actions, 
the  execution  of  which  it  would  have  been  dangerous  to 
entrust  to  the  will. 

Here  the  impulse  of  instinct  is  certain  and  unerring, 
"  like  all  the  great  harmonies  of  nature,"  says  Houzeau. 
But  in  the  greater  number  of  other  less  necessary  actions, 
which  are  "  ruled  or  at  least  influenced  by  the  animal  itself," 
we  find  an  instinct  "  subject  to  accidental  illusions,  to  the 
aberrations  of  the  individual,  to  the  idiosyncrasies  of  species."^ 
It  would  not  be  uninteresting  to  quote  a  few  examples  from 
this  same  author,  showing  that  instinct  can  sometimes  err. 

"The  large  earth-worm,  or  lob-worm,  is  very  much 
frightened  of  the  mole ;  and  whenever  it  feels  the  earth 
moving,  it  mounts  to  the  surface  to  escape  from  this  insect- 
hunter.  Now  certain  birds,  such  as  the  gull  and  the  lap- 
wing, and  fishermen  who  use  earth-worms  as  bait,  prowl 
about  on  the  sands  in  search  of  the  latter.  The  worm, 
thinking  that  the  shaking  of  the  earth  is  caused  by  the 
approach  of  a  mole,  comes  out  of  his  subterranean  retreat, 
and  falls  a  prey  to  the  other  enemy.  This  is  a  false  appli- 
cation of  instinct,  but  it  is  not  correctly  speaking  a  false 
instinct.  .  .  ."  In  the  following  facts,  however,  we  see 
error  rather  than  illusion  :  "  Of  what  use  would  it  be  for  a 
hen  to  retain  the  instinct  of  sitting  when  her  eggs  are  addled, 
just  as  if  she  were  able  to  hatch  them  ?  A  superior  guide 
would  make  a  distinction.  It  is  true  all  the  same  that  a 
hen  will  sit  without  eggs,  when  the  proper  time  arrives, 

^  Houzeau,  Etude  siir  les  Facultis  Mentales  chez  les  Auimaux,  t.  i., 
p.  295. 


GENERAL   AND   SPECIAL   INSTINCTS.  4/ 

from  which  we  surmise  that  repose,  the  attitude  of  prostra- 
tion, and  a  partial  abstinence  are  necessary  to  the  dissipa- 
tion of  an  overabundance  of  organic  heat.  The  hen  which 
broods  over  an  empty  nest,  does  so  from  personal  necessity 
.  .  .  But  the  instinct  of  preservation  is  sometimes  faulty. 
Thus,  little  birds  mistake  the  cuckoo  for  a  sparrow-hawk ; 
and  these  same  sparrows  attack  the  European  goat-sucker 
as  if  they  had  reason  to  fear  him,  while  in  reality  the  latter 
bird  feeds  solely  on  moths  and  nocturnal  insects.  .  .  . 
Instinct  here  goes  too  far  in  the  idea  of  protection  ;  it  may 
be  said  to  be  an  excess  of  precaution.  Here  however  is 
an  example  of  a  contrary  case.  The  aphides,  or  plant 
insects,  do  not  know  that  the  larvse  of  the  syrphides  are 
their  mortal  enemies.  They  feel  no  fear  at  the  sight  of 
them  and  will  even  walk  over  their  bodies.  The  syrphides, 
which  feed  on  aphides,  take  advantage  of  this  imprudence, 
as  may  easily  be  miagined. 

"Thus  the  consciousness  of  danger,  and  even  of  an 
ordinary  and  constant  danger,  may  be  at  fault ;  instincts 
therefore  are  not  absolute.  But  the  facts  in  our  possession 
are  certainly  very  insufficient  to  determine  the  important 
question  at  the  head  of  this  chapter — Can  instinct  err  ?" 

It  is  probable,  but  it  has  not  yet  been  demonstrated,  that 
the  execution  of  instinctive  actions  is  influenced  in  a  certain 
measure  by  volition.  We  may  infer  this  particularly  from 
the  fact  that  animals  have  the  power  of  suspending  their 
respiration  and  exercising  a  partial  or  momentary  control 
(as  man  himself  can)  on  certain  automatic  functions.  Dogs 
and  horses  suspend  their  breath,  in  order  to  listen  better, 
when  they  apprehend  some  danger.  Now,  if  certain  actions 
of  the  automatic  life  of  animals  are  in  part  subjected,  though 
in  a  very  limited  degree,  to  the  control  of  volition,  why 
should  it  be  a  matter  of  surprise  if  one  day  it  were  de- 
monstrated that  all  instincts  may  be  equally  influenced  by 
a  like  control  ? 

Since,  then,  instinct  may  err,  and  since,  up  to  a  certain 
point,  it  is  subject  to  the  control  of  consciousness  and 
volition,  it  follows  also  that  it  is  neither  uniform  for  the 
species    nor  invariable  for   the    individual.      Even   in  the 


48      THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

case  of  animals,  it  obeys  the  law  of  progress ;  and  this  pro- 
gress is  more  or  less  rapid  according  to  the  usefulness 
which  is  to  result  from  it  to  the  species,  more  or  less  slow 
according  to  the  degree  which  it  is  to  attain  in  the  species, 
and  no  doubt  also  according  to  the  aptitudes  of  the  in- 
dividual and  the  influence  of  surroundings. 

Colts,  calves,  and  young  chickens  all  walk  by  instinct  as 
soon  as  they  are  born,  with  an  automatic  action  facilitated 
by  their  organization  and  which  they  perfect  by  exercise 
and  attention.  Birds  fly,  or  try  to  fly,  as  soon  as  their 
wings  are  strong  enough.  And  see  how  usefully  heredity 
mterposes  in  similar  cases  ;  sheep  cannot  take  care  of  their 
young  ones  as  monkeys  and  women  do,  the  lambs  would 
therefore  perish  if  they  could  not  very  soon  use  their  legs 
and  walk.  A  child  sucks  by  instinct,  and  moreover,  like 
cats,  dogs,  and  lambs,  it  very  quickly  learns  to  perform  this 
operation  with  rapidity  and  certainty.  With  walking,  how- 
ever, it  is  different ;  and  although  the  child  may  have  an 
instinctive  faculty  for  the  operation,  it  only  acquires  it 
perfectly  by  dint  of  countless  efforts  and  at  the  price  of 
many  tumbles.  Here  too  we  see  the  care  of  nature,  for  if 
the  organs  of  locomotion  were  perfect  at  starting,  while 
intellectual  and  moral  experience  is  wanting,  they  would  be 
the  cause  of  dangerous  errors  and  fatal  adventures.  Again, 
children  very  early  show  themselves  adepts  at  the  signs, 
gestures,  or  cries  which  are  expressions  of  emotion  or 
volition ;  but  it  is  not  until  their  psychic  faculties  have 
already  reached  a  degree  of  development  superior  to  that 
of  many  adult  animals  that  they  begin  their  first  attempts  at 
speech. 

Thus,  neither  with  human  beings  nor  with  animals  is 
instinct  a  uniform  and  infallible  guide.  For  children,  as  for 
animals, — though  in  the  former  case  within  limits  generally 
less  restricted, — there  is  a  more  or  less  easy  and  certain 
development  of  the  instinct  to  be  followed  ;  a  child  has  to 
carry  on  the  simultaneous  development  of  all  its  senses  and 
.faculties — intellectual,  volitional,  and  moral.     One  is  struck, 

(it  is  true,  with  the  slowness  of  a  child's  progress  in  com- 
parison to  that  of  young  animals  ;  but  a  child  of  a  year  old 


SPECIAL   INSTINCTS.  49 

is  in  many  respects  much  more  advanced  than  an  adult  \ 
animal  will  ever  be.  In  these  respects  there  are  great 
differences  in  children,  according  to  their  natural  energy, 
the  force  of  hereditary  transmission,  and  the  nature  of  the 
circumstances  under  which  their  development  proceeds. 
This  should  never  be  forgotten  by  those  who  are  closely 
connected  with  young  children.  Their  influence,  whether 
they  will  or  no,  is  by  no  means  a  matter  of  indifference, 
whether  from  a  quantitative  or  a  qualitative  point  of  view, 
to  the  development  of  the  instincts  of  their  young  charges. 
They  would  be  making  a  great  mistake  if  they  imagined 
that  nature  does  everything  at  this  early  age,  in  other  words, 
that  instincts,  the  fruit  of  hereditary  experience,  like  a  sort 
of  providential  grace,  dispenses  young  infants  from  all  need 

of  effort  and  personal  experience.  

We,  who  are  partisans  of  the  doctrine  of  evolution,  must 
be  careful  to  avoid  the  error  into  which  the  optimist  cham- 
pions of  final  causes  fell  through  exaggeration  in  the 
opposite  extreme.  We  must  not  sacrifice  personal  ex- 
perience to  the  experience  of  the  race,  nor  imagine  that  the 
apprenticeship  of  life  is  nothing  more  than  reminiscence, 
that  the  child  has  only  to  repeat  mechanically  the  work  of 
its  ancestors.  As  has  been  very  aptly  said,  "  Notwithstand- 
ing hereditary  transmission  of  instincts,  everything  has 
continually  to  be  done  over  again,  to  be  begun  anew  in 
each  new  individual ;  and  life  is  made  up,  not  of  a  series  of 
easy  reminiscences,  but  of  a  chain  of  laborious  acquisitions 
and  personal  conquests.  In  short,  in  the  evolution  of  the 
race  we  must  not  lose  sight  of  individual  evolution." 


He  I 


II. 

SPECIAL    INSTINCT^. 

Instinctive  activity  presents  a  great  many  different  forms 
in  new-born  children,  or  in  children  several  weeks  old  ;  we 
shall  endeavour  to  make  a  rapid  analysis  of  the  principal 
of  these.  And  first  of  all  we  must  distinguish  between 
general  tendencies,  or  simple  appetites  and  instincts, 
and  special  tendencies,  or  complex  appetites  and  instincts. 

E 


50      THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

Among  the  first  we  class  the  instincts  of  taste,  odour,  sight, 
hearing,  touch,  muscular  activity,  and  thermal  equilibration ; 
and  among  the  second  the  instincts  of  nutrition,  of  sleep,  of 
utterance,  locomotion,  and  sexuality. 

General  Instincts. — Wherever  there  are  organs  of  sensi- 
bility, there  is  also  an  instinctive  tendency  to  perform 
actions  which  awaken  a  certain  sort  of  sensibility.  All  the 
senses  desire  to  be  satisfied ;  and  we  have  seen  that  from 
the  moment  of  birth,  or  at  any  rate,  a  few  days  after,  a 
young  child  will  begin  to  use  the  energy  which  belongs  to 
each  of  its  different  senses.  This  is  especially  the  case 
with  the  sense  of  taste,  which  nevertheless  at  the  outset  is 
passive  and  obtuse,  because  it  is  confounded  with  the 
sense  of  nutrition.  By  the  fourth  month,  however,  the 
child  has  become  better  able  to  abstract  his  various  sensa- 
tions, and  shows  evident  signs  of  a  tendency  to  desire 
the  food  he  has  recognised  as  agreeable.  It  is  the  same 
also  with  the  sense  of  sight.  By  the  third  week  the  eye 
begins  to  be  attracted  by  light,  and  soon  after  by  any 
luminous  or  coloured  objects  near  at  hand ;  and  we  can 
here  plainly  see  that  the  instinct  which  impels  every  organ 
to  maintain  its  vitality  is  in  harmony  with  the  instinct 
which  drives  them  to  seek  satisfaction  in  exercise ;  all 
colours  are  pleasing  to  young  children  if  they  stimulate 
their  sight  without  disturbing  it.  The  same  may  be  said 
of  auditory  impressions ;  we  have  seen  how  much  young 
children  delight  in  noise,  and  how  indifferent  they  are  to 
discord,  provided  their  ears  are  not  shocked.  These  two 
senses,  sight  and  hearing,  which  later  on  will  become  two 
essential  instruments  of  instruction  and  emotion,  operate 
at  first  solely  for  themselves,  if  I  may  so  express  myself, 
and  with  an  aim  entirely  affective.  A  child  of  two  or  three 
months  spends  the  greater  part  of  his  waking  hours  in 
looking  and  listening  for  the  sole  pleasure  that  the  sen- 
sations of  seeing  and  hearing  afford  him,  independently  of 
any  immediate  or  future  utility,  and  without  any  feeling 
of  curiosity  properly  so  called.  The  next  sense  that  is 
awakened  is  that  of  touch.  At  the  age  of  three  months, 
children  begin  to  stretch  out  their  hands  in  order  to  take 


THE  INSTINCT  OF   NUTRITION.  5 1 

hold  of  things  ;  they  touch  and  feel  everything  within 
reach,  and  their  taclile  sensations  develop  day  by  day. 

A  child  of  six  months  spends  at  least  half  of  his  waking 
hours  in  exercising  the  organs  which  afford  him  pleasant 
sensations, — visual,  auditory,  tactile,  and  muscular ;  and 
there  is  no  doubt  that  these  exercises  have  as  a  rule  no 
other  object  than  the  development  of  the  organs,  though 
at  intervals  the  child  notices  them  with  attention,  and  this 
attention  contributes  usefully  to  his  progress.  But  the 
tendency  to  enjoy  pleasant  sensations,  and  to  repeat  them 
over  and  over  again  for  their  own  sake,  is  the  dominant 
instinct  at  this  period.  This^  tendency,  moreover,  exists  at 
all  periods  of  life.  A  grown-up  person,  who  is  not  com- 
pelled either  by  the  necessities  of  existence,  or  the  claims 
of  duty,  or  the  influence  of  special  or  professional  habits, 
to  bring  all  his  faculties  under  the  discipline  of  useful 
attention,  reverts  to  the  state  of  a  child — the  sensual  and 
unconscious  instinct  reassuming  its  sway  over  the  voluntary 
and  intellectual  instinct ;  the  man  returns  gradually  to  the 
infant  state  of  looking  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  seeing,  of 
listening  for  the  sake  of  hearing,  of  feeling  for  the  sake  of 
gratifying  the  touch,  of  moving  and  walking  for  the  sake  of 
the  more  or  less  agreeable  sensations  which  these  automatic 
actions  produce.  How  many  people  are  there  not  whose 
days  are  passed  in  vacuity,  that  is  to  say  in  nothing  higher 
than  the  unconscious  functional  actions  of  the  instincts  of 
sense,  which  have  gradually  become  transformed  into 
barren  habits  !  That  which  is  a  constant  necessity  for  a 
little  child,  who  after  slight  efforts  at  attention  and  intel- 
lectual operations  requires  to  rest  in  less  engrossing  sen- 
sations, is  only  necessary  to  the  adult  at  intervals,  in  order 
to  recover  from  nervous  or  muscular  fatigue,  or  in  case  of 
illness. 

The  Instinct  of  Nutrition. — The  appetite  for  nutrition, 
or  the  instinct  of  nourishing  oneself,  which  occupies  the 
first  place  among  special  appetites,  is  not  one  of  those 
tendencies  whose  stimulus  is  always  present  in  the  visceral 
organs,  as  the  need  of  breathing,  for  instance,  is  from 
the  moment  of  birth ;  this  stimulus  has  to  be  supplied  from 


52      THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

without,  and  the  state  of  the  viscera  to  which  the  appetite  for 
nourishment  corresponds  is  reproduced *at  regular  intervals. 
Even  in  the  later  stages  of  uterine  life,  the  intimate  union 
between  sensory  activity  and  visceral  wants  is  established 
relatively  to  this  instinct ;  it  is  because  its  functions  are  too 
delicate,  too  important,  and  too  complex  for  the  organs 
destined  to  perform  them  to  be  able  to  come  into  play  at 
the  moment  of  birth — a  time  liable  to  a  multitude  of  acci- 
dental variations.  Hence  the  following  facts,  related  by 
Houzeau,  are  by  no  means  improbable. 

"  Mammals  and  birds  absorb  nourishment  before  escaping 
from  their  integuments ;  the  chicken  consumes  the  white  of 
the  egg,  the  child  sucks  up  the  water  of  the  amnios,  as  also 
do  calves  and  the  greater  number  of  mammals.  This  foetal 
alimentation  is  the  cause  of  the  often  very  copious  motions 
of  new-born  animals.  But  calves  go  still  further.  It  is  an 
ascertained  fact  that  they  lick  themselves  before  the  time 
of  birth,  pieces  of  their  own  hair  having  been  found  in 
their  stomach  with  the  water  of  the  amnios.  .  .  .  The 
instinct  of  nourishment  is  thus  as  innate  as  the  need  of 
taking  nourishment."  ^  We  should  even  add,  that  this 
instinct  is  already  specialized,  "  that  it  does  not  impel  the 
infant  indifferently  towards  all  objects  alike,  but  towards  a 
certain  class  of  objects."  After  the  first  months  of  milk 
diet,  children  show  very  marked  omnivorous  tendencies, 
with  characteristic  differences  of  likes  and  dislikes  ac- 
cording to  the  individuals. 

The  instinct  of  nutrition  is  innate ;  and  so,  up  to  a 
certain  point,  is  the  faculty  of  nourishing  oneself,  but  it  is 
not  perfect  on  the  day  of  birth.  Some  animals,  as  Bastian 
says,  exhibit  this  faculty  "almost  immediately  after  birth, 
and  without  making  any  previous  abortive  efforts."  ^  The 
wild  boar  and  the  chicken,  for  instance.  But  in  the  case 
of  animals  who  do  not  attain,  while  yet  in  the  oviduct  or 
the  uterus,  the  necessary  development  for  the  exercise 
of  certain  faculties,  the  latter  do  not  appear,  or  rather  are 

*  Etude  sur  les  Facultcs  Mentales  dcs  Animaux,  t.  i.,  p.  193. 
"   The  Brain  as  an  Organ  0/  Mind. 


THE  INSTINCT  OF   SLEEP.  53 

not  developed,  until  a  few  days  or  weeks  after  birth.  A 
child  manages  the  operation  of  suction,  though  awkwardly 
it  is  true,  a  few  hours  after  birth ;  but  it  cannot  masticate  or 
take  hold  of  other  food  adapted  to  its  species  any  more 
than  a  new-born  kitten  can  catch  or  devour  prey.  And 
just  as  a  kitten  does  not  learn  to  lie  in  wait  for  prey,  or  to 
seize  its  food  and  masticate  it  until  certain  parts  of  its 
organism  have  become  sufficiently  developed,  and  birds  do 
not  attempt  to  fly  away  and  seek  food  for  themselves  until 
the  right  organs  are  ready,  so  children  only  learn  to  take 
hold  of  and  eat  an  apple,  a  piece  of  bread,  a  cake,  etc.,  when 
their  organs  of  mastication  have  reached  a  certain  stage  of 
maturity.  I  may  add,  that  the  forces  which  suffice  to  pro- 
duce the  stimulus  of  instinctive  action  in  infants,  as  in 
kittens,  and  even  in  young  birds,  result  at  first  merely  in 
more  or  less  successful  attempts.  The  power  of  feeding 
oneself,  like  that  of  walking  or  flying,  requires  always  a 
longer  or  shorter  education,  in  which  the  initiative  of  the 
young  being  needs  to  be  helped  by  the  example  and 
encouragement  of  grown-up  people. 

The  Instinct  of  Sleep. — The  appetite  of  sleep  manifests 
itself  in  quite  a  special  way,  as  a  negative  tendency,  if  I 
may  so  express  myself,  as  a  need  for  the  cessation  of 
activity.  Hence  the  movements  and  actions  which  produce 
tranquillity  and  sleep  are  monotonous  and  slow ;  the  natural 
rocking  of  branches  for  birds,  the  rhythmic  movement  of 
the  head  in  horses  when  standing  upright,  and  the  rocking 
of  the  arms  or  cradle,  accompanied  by  a  monotonous  song, 
for  children's  sleep,  is  interesting  to  study  from  the  double 
point  of  view  of  physiology  and  psychology. 

The  physiological  cause  of  sleep  is  unknown.  On  what- 
ever hypothesis  it  be  explained,  whether  cerebral  congestion 
or  cerebral  anemia,  we  can  at  any  rate  easily  observe  the 
almost  constant  characteristics  of  this  phenomenon.  It 
takes  possession,  gradually  in  adults,  and  often  abruptly 
in  children,  of  all  the  different  organs  :  first  of  all  the 
muscles  of  the  limbs,  the  arms  and  legs,  become  fixed  in 
the  position  they  happen  to  have  assumed  ;  after  the  limbs, 
the  voluntary  muscles  of  the  trunk  relax  themselves  into  a 


54      THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

State  of  more  or  less  complete  flexion.  It  has  also  been 
noticed  that  during  sleep  respiration  and  pulsation  become 
rarer.  But  what  is  the  mental  condition  of  the  animal 
while  asleep?  While  the  nutritive  functions  and  reflex 
movements  are  still  going  on,  does  the  brain  cease 
to  operate?  Does  sleep  only  suspend  a  portion  of  the 
phenomena  of  psychic  activity  ?  We  know  nothing  about 
it.  It  is  probable  that  the  abolition  of  mental  states  is 
never  absolute,  that  it  never  reaches  all  the  regions  of  the 
brain,  even  when  sleep  is  profound. 

It  is  at  any  rate  certain, — both  memory  and  the  nature  of 
dreams  prove  this, — that  the  cerebral  hemispheres  have  a 
great  tendency  during  sleep  to  recommence  their  functions, 
though  always  in  an  incomplete  manner.  We  know  also 
that  the  impressions  which  come  from  the  viscera,  or  a  very 
slight  hindrance  in  the  circulation  or  respiration,  or  too 
strong  a  muscular  pressure,  or  repletion  or  vacuity  of  the 
intestines,  or  even  perceptions  from  the  external  world 
coming  abruptly  and  disagreeably,  will  give  rise  to  very 
painful  ideas  and  emotions,  and  cause  corresponding  screams 
and  movements.  Although  dreams  do  not  appear  to  be 
excluded,  even  from  profound  sleep,  they  are  generally 
fatiguing  to  the  organs.  Sleep  means  the  reparation  and 
restoration  of  the  forces  of  the  body,  and  the  incoherent 
activity  of  the  dream  state  is  a  premature  expenditure  of 
the  force  intended  for  the  activity  of  the  morrow. 

But  when  dreams  are  light,  intermittent,  and  pleasant, 
when  they  do  not  hinder  the  complete  repose  of  the 
principal  organs,  and  when  they  only  exercise  the  cerebral 
organ  moderately  and  without  tiring  it,  they  are  entirely 
negative  from  a  physiological  point  of  view,  while  at  the 
same  time  they  are  highly  favourable  to  the  intellectual  and 
moral  development.  In  the  absence  of  any  actual  per- 
ceptions, past  perceptions  work  themselves  out  under  the 
law  of  association,  and  free  from  the  control  and  the 
obstacles  of  reality.  The  mind,  as  it  were,  isolates  itself 
from  the  external  world  in  order  to  abandon  itself  freely  to 
its  work  of  ideal  incubation  and  digestion. 

It  is  then,  and  perhaps  better  then  than  in  our  waking  hours, 


THE  INSTINCT  OF   SLEEP.  55 

that  the  fortuitous  association  and  dissociation  of  images 
produce  those  abstractions  by  which  individual  forms  are 
detached  from  masses,  details  from  the  whole,  and  qualities 
from  objects ;  there  is  no  doubt  that  in  dreams  a  child's 
brain  is  crossed  by  images  as  vivid  in  themselves  as  they 
are  unlike  absolute  realities :  hallucinations  of  sound, 
colour,  and  tactile  impressions,  of  muscular  sensations,  of 
forms  isolated  or  grouped  together,  of  objects  that  resemble 
each  other,  and  objects  that  are  differentiated,  and  still 
more  series  of  actions  accomplished  by  a  greater  or  less 
number  of  actors,  and  giving  rise  to  reasonings  and  sym- 
pathetic sentiments.  All  the  intellectual  operations,  all  the 
emotional  faculties,  are  exercised  in  dreams  with  all  the 
more  ease  and  utility  that  they  act  solely  on  their  own 
resources ;  in  this  state  the  mind  works  on  its  own  acquire- 
ments and  ideas,  we  may  almost  say,  on  itself.  Thus  it 
may  be  said  that  sleep  is  for  children  general  repose  of 
muscular,  sensorial,  and  cerebral  activity,  though  with  inter- 
mittent returns  of  activity,  all  the  more  agreeable  and 
serviceable  as  the  dreams  are  rare  and  light.  We  know, 
moreover,  that  a  child  of  two  or  three  years  old  dreams 
more  than  one  of  six  months  or  a  year,  a  child  of  from  six 
to  ten  years,  more  than  one  of  three,  the  adult  less  than 
the  youth,  and  the  old  man  less  than  the  adult.  The  fre- 
quency and  the  vivacity  of  dreams,  pre-supposing  of  course 
the  normal  condition  of  the  subject,  appears  to  be  in  pro- 
portion to  the  psychic  excitability  or  activity. 

Dreams  are  not  only  an  important  fact  of  psychic  life, 
interesting  to  our  intellectual  faculties,  their  influence 
extends  to  our  sentiments  and  even  to  our  morality.  The 
mental  states  which  are  produced,  with  or  without  con- 
sciousness, during  sleep,  are  the  consequence  of  and  the 
preparation  for  certain  states  of  our  waking  hours.  *'  It  is 
possible,"  says  M.  Ch.  Leveque,  "  that  the  cheerful  or  sad 
humours  of  the  day  are  a  faint  repetition  of  the  agitations 
experienced  in  sleep,  and  that  all  the  workings  of  the  mind 
during  the  night  may  help  to  produce  certain  actions  of  the 
day."  There  is  indeed  no  doubt  that  remembrance  is  not  the 
only  trace  dreams  are  able  to  leave  after  them.     According 


56      THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

to  the  nature  of  the  dreams  which  it  has  had  during  the 
night,  the  child  is  more  or  less  cheerful  during  the  day, 
more  or  less  inclined  to  be  good  and  obedient. 

I  have  said  enough  about  the  instinct  of  locomotion  in. 
the  chapter  on  movements,  to  make  it  unnecessary  to  go 
over  it  all  again  here.  The  instinct  of  utterance  I  shall 
treat  of  in  the  chapter  dedicated  to  language.  The  instinct 
of  sexuality  will  be  most  fitly  considered  in  a  chapter  de- 
voted to  modesty  or  to  the  moral  sense  ;  though  it  will  not 
be  amiss  to  devote  some  attention  to  it  in  this  chapter  con- 
cerning special  tendencies. 

The  Sexual  Instinct. — The  localization  of  the  sexual 
instinct  in  the  brain  is  far  from  being  determined.  The 
hypothesis  of  Gall,  who  asserted  that  a  constant  relationship 
exists  between  the  development  of  the  cerebellum  and  the 
sexual  appetite,  has  been  entirely  confuted  by  the  facts 
elicited  by  clinical  observation  and  human  pathology.  Ac- 
cording to  Ferrier,  the  organic  needs  which  constitute  the 
basis  of  sexual  appetite,  centre  round  a  special  form  of  tactile 
sensation  which  may  be  supposed  to  have  its  centre  in  close 
relation  to  the  hippocampal  region.  But  it  is  only  conjec- 
ture; he  affirms  nothing.  He  adds,  moreover,  resting  his 
supposition  on  the  power  which  some  odours  have  to  excite 
the  sexual  instinct,  that  a  region  in  close  relation  to  the 
centres  of  the  sense  of  smell  and  to  the  tactile  sensations 
might  be  considered  as  the  probable  seat  of  the  sensations 
which  constitute  the  basis  of  sexual  appetite.^  The  centres  of 
this  sensation,  according  to  the  same  writer,  "  are  probably 
placed  in  the  regions  which  unite  the  occipital  lobes  to  the 
infero-internal  region  of  the  temporo-sphenoidal  lobe.  As 
the  reproductive  organs  in  women  form  such  a  preponderant 
element  in  their  bodily  constitution,  they  must  correspond- 
ingly be  more  largely  represented  in  the  cerebral  hemispheres, 
a  fact  which  is  in  accordance  with  the  greater  emotional 
excitability  of  women,  and  the  relatively  larger  development 
of  the  posterior  lobes  of  the  brain."  ^    Thus  we  are  reduced 

*  David  Ferrier,  The  Functions  of  the  Brain,  p.  198. 
2  Ibid.,  p.  263. 


THE  SEXUAL  INSTINCT.  5/ 

to  hypotheses  with  regard  to  the  localization  of  this  instinct, 
and  it  is  not  necessary  to  inquire  whether  the  brain  of  a 
litde  child  possesses,  in  any  degree  of  development,  the 
cerebral  organs  of  sexual  appetition.  But  we  must  not 
overlook  the  fact  that  this  instinct  is  not  exclusively  charac- 
terized by  the  reproductive  tendency.  Its  chief  character- 
istic is  the  appetition  of  the  sensations  whose  unconscious 
object,  or  rather,  perhaps,  whose  result,  is  the  multiphcation 
and  preservation  of  the  human  race.  I  quote  here  the  words 
of  a  recognised  authority  on  comparative  psychology. 

*'  Modern  anatomists  have  proved  that  the  disparity  of  the 
sexes  is  much  less  radical  than  we  are  inclined  to  think. 
The  type  is  the  same  for  all  the  individuals  of  a  species. 
The  male  mammifer,  like  the  female,  has  breasts,  which  only 
lack  development.  The  analogy  is  continued,  if  not  between 
the  relative  proportions  of  the  different  parts,  at  least  in  the 
general  plan  of  structure,  down  to  the  genital  organs. 
Everard'  Home  goes  as  far  as  to  think  that  at  the  beginning 
the  germ  may  be  indiscriminately  endowed  with  either  sex, 
and  that  its  being  male  or  female  would  depend  on  ulterior 
circumstances  of  a  simple  nature,  such  as  accidents  of  im- 
pregnation. .  .  Even  in  superior  animals,  the  sex, 
though  it  cannot  be  changed,  is  not  such  an  exclusive  thing 
as  is  generally  thought.  At  birth,  and  during  all  the  first 
period  of  life,  the  sex  can  only  be  distinguished  by  the 
structure  of  the  genital  organs.  It  is  only  later  in  life  that 
other  characteristics  appear,  the  beard,  the  breasts,  etc. 
The  male  bird  decks  himself  out  in  the  most  resplendent 
plumage ;  and  those  mental  affections  which  are  allied  with 
sexual  phenomena,  and  which  have  hitherto  lain  dormant, 
or  almost  so,  now  burst  forth  in  all  their  strength."  ^ 

The  same  author  cites  a  number  of  examples  taken  from 
the  mammifer  species,  and  tending  to  show  that  the  devia- 
tion of  the  sexual  instinct, — going  as  far  as  to  anomalous 
confusion  of  sex  and  age,  and  the  exclusive  pursuit  of  sensa- 
tions connected  with  this  instinct, — is  not  special  to  human 

*  Houzeau,  Etudes  surles  Faculth  Metitales  ties  Animatix,  tome,  i., 
pp.  274,  etc. 


58      THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

beings.  In  recording  these  physiological  observations,  the 
great  naturalist  has  no  other  object  than  to  explain  the 
brutality  of  the  passion  of  love  in  different  animals.  They 
enable  us  to  understand  the  like  excesses  in  man,  who  is 
not  necessarily  a  reasonable  animal,  but  an  animal  who  can 
and  ought  to  be  reasonable.  Without  dwelling  on  these 
delicate  questions,  which  frequent  criminal  scandals  and  the 
success  of  a  certain  class  of  novels  force  on  the  considera- 
tion of  moralists  and  legislators,  I  shall  content  myself  with 
pointing  out  to  parents  and  educators  who  are  ignorant  of 
them,  the  possible  dangers  resulting  from  the  deviation  and 
corruption  of  the  sexual  instinct,  even  as  regards  quite  young 
children.  Let  me  again  quote  a  few  passages  from  a  book 
of  high  moral  purport,  which  grown-up  people  may  study 
with  profit  both  to  themselves  and  to  children  of  any  age 
who  may  come  under  their  care.  The  quotation  refers  only 
to  the  moral  interests  of  young  children. 

"  The  following  points,  bearing  on  the  moral  education  of 
childhood  and  youth,  must  be  considered  by  all  parents 
who  are  convinced  of  the  saving  value  of  sexual  morality, 
viz.,  observation  of  the  child  during  infancy,  acquirement 
of  the  child's  confidence,  selection  of  young  companions, 
care  in  the  choice  of  a  school  and  of  studies  which  will  not 
injure  the  mind,  the  formation  of  tastes,  outdoor  exercise, 
companionship  of  brothers  and  sisters,  the  choice  of  a 
physician,  social  intercourse  and  amusements.  These  vari- 
ous points  require  careful  consideration. 

"  The  earhest  duty  of  the  parent,  is  to  watch  over  the 
infant  child.  Few  parents  are  aware  how  very  early  evil 
habits  may  be  formed,  nor  how  injurious  the  infiuence  of 
the  nurse  "  [why  of  the  nurse  only  ?]  "  often  is  to  the  child. 
The  mother's  eye,  full  of  tenderness  and  respect,  must 
always  watch  over  her  children.  .  .  .  This  watchfulness 
over  the  young  child,  by  day  and  night,  is  the  first  duty  to 
be  universally  inculcated.  Two  things  are  necessary  in 
order  to  fulfil  it;  viz.,  a  clear  knowledge  of  the  evils'^ to 
which  the  child  may  be  exposed,  and  tact  to  interpret  the 
faintest  indication  of  danger,  and  to  guard  from  it  without 


THE   SEXUAL   INSTINCT.  59 

allowing  the  child  to  be  aware  of  the  danger."  ^  Dr.  Eliza- 
beth Blackwell  adds,  in  a  note  in  the  Appendix,  the  following 
melancholy  considerations  : — "  Terrible  instances  of  this 
may  be  seen  in  Tr^lat's  medical  work,  '  La  Folie  Lucide ;  * 
and  Lallemand  and  other  French  surgeons  report  numerous 
cases  of  fatal  injury,  done  even  to  nursing  infants,  by  the 
wicked  actions  of  unprincipled  nurses.  I  have  myself 
traced  the  ill-health  of  children  in  wealthy  families  to  the 
habits  practised  by  confidential  nurses,  apparently  quiet 
respectable  women  !  Abundant  medical  testimony  confirms 
these  observations."  ^ 


*  Advice  to  Parents  on  the  Moral  Education  of  their  Children^  p.  85 
(Dr.  Elizabeth  Blackwell). 
"^  Id.,  Ibid.     Appendix. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   SENTIMENTS. 

I  CANNOT  resign  myself  to  seeing  in  a  little  child,  even  when 
only  a  few  days  old,  a  mei»e  machine  or  automaton.  A 
learned  man  to  whom  I  had  expounded,  without  convincing 
him,  my  ideas  on  the  direction  that  should  be  given  to  the 
faculties  of  young  children,  sent  me  by  way  of  refutation 
the  following  description  of  his  infant  son,  then  about  two 
months  old  : — "  He  is  a  thorough  little  animal,  voracious  to 
excess,  and  never  quiet  except  when  asleep  or  at  the  breast. 
I  could  never  have  believed  that  a  little  child  was  so 
absolutely  an  animal,  with  no  other  instincts  than  that  of 
gluttony.  To  avoid  being  completely  disgusted,  one  has  to 
remind  oneself  that  in  a  few  months  there  will  be  some  gleams 
of  intelligence,  and  that  the  creature  will  begin  to  show 
some  likeness  to  a  human  being."  All  at  once,  I  suppose  ! 
By  one  knows  not  what  miracle  of  nature !  My  friend 
received  from  me  a  variety  of  further  observations  which, 
however,  had  no  greater  success.  He  wrote  again  :  "  I 
believe  still  in  the  pure  animalism  of  the  infant,  and  to  give 
a  real  idea  of  the  voracity  of  this  age,  I  can  only  compare 
it  to  a  larva,  always  eating ,  without  pause  or  rest."  Setting 
aside  for  the  moment  some  details  which  appear  to  me  to  be 
doubly  calumnious,  both  towards  children  and  animals,  I  must 
allow  that  my  friend  has  well  observed  and  well  described 
the  state  of  a  young  child  subject  to  the  tyrannical  need 
of  food.  M.  Luys  has  observed  the  same  state  of  things  ; 
but  he,  like  myself,  has  also  observed  something  further, 
and  this  something  is  of  the  greatest  importance  :  ^'  His 
organic  appetites  are  gratified  by  the  milk  he  sucks,  and  he 


THE   SENTIMENTS.  6l 

feeds  himself  organically,  like  an  organic  cell,  which  borrows 
from  the  surrounding  medium  the  materials  which  suit  it. 
But  at  the  same  time  he  expresses  the  satisfaction  he  feels 
in  his  own  manner ;  he  smiles  on  seeing  the  breast  which 
yields  him  his  nourishment  and  life,  and  from  that  time  his 
natural  sensibility  is  thrown  into  agitation,  his  sensorium  is 
affected.  He  rejoices  because  he  remembers,  because  he 
has  retained  a  memory  of  the  satisfaction  of  his  physical 
appetites."  ^ 

Sentiments  connected  with  Taste. — A  child's  most  vivid 
sentiments  are  for  a  long  time  after  its  birth  those  connected 
with  the  sense  of  taste.  The  need  of  nourishment  dominates 
for  a  long  time  over  all  the  others,  even  that  of  movement ; 
it  manifests  itself  the  first  and  is  the  most  persistent.  The 
emotions  connected  with  this  incessant  and  imperious  want 
are  the  most  agreeable  ones  that  children  experience.  It 
is  through  the  satisfaction  of  their  appetite  that  they  learn 
to  know  and  to  love  first  of  all  the  breast  they  suck,  or  their 
feeding-bottle,  and  secondly  the  hands,  the  face,  the  voice, 
the  eyes,  the  smiles,  the  caresses,  the  entire  person  of  their 
nurse  or  mother.  Their  first  affections  are  those  of  an 
epicure  ;  their  first  feelings  of  gratitude  are  awakened  by  the^^ 
stomach ;  they  test  their  first  tactile  experiences,  as  much 
as  possible,  by  the  sense  of  taste.  If  one  puts  an  object  of 
any  kind  into  the  hands  of  a  child  of  six  months,  he  will 
touch  and  feel  it  for  a  few  seconds  without  seeming  to  learn 
much  from  the  tactile  impression,  and  then,  if  he  is  strong 
enough,  he  will  carry  it  to  his  mouth,  and  experiment  upon 
it  with  the  organs  of  taste.  His  nurse's  finger,  a  bit  of  rag, 
a  stick,  a  box,  fruit,  flowers,  etc.,  anything  and  everything, 
great  or  small,  pleasant  or  unpleasant,  all  goes  up  to  the 
mouth.  Pretty  to  look  at^  and  good  to  eat,  are  synonymous 
terms  to  babies ;  a  pretty  picture,  the  colours  of  which  first 
attracted  it,  is  seized  hold  of,  and,  like  everything  else,  put 
into  the  mouth.  Even  after  they  have  learnt  by  frequent 
experiments  that  all  objects  have  not  a  pleasant  taste,  they 


*  Luys,  Le  Cervcau  et  ses  Fonctious,  Eng.  Trans.,  p.  127. 


62      THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

only  mistrust,  at  first  sight,  those  which  are  notoriously 
offensive  to  them.  Later  on,  after  the  age  of  four  months, 
the  desire  to  stop  the  itching  of  the  gums  becomes,  no 
doubt,  an  additional  reason  for  the  constant  movement  of 
the  hands  to  the  mouth  ;  but  the  chief  cause  of  it  is  the  ex- 
cessive excitability  of  the  functions  of  taste,  and  of  the  ideas 
and  sentiments  connected  with  this  organ. 

The  sensations  of  joy  and  pain  connected  with  taste  con- 
tinue to  be  the  dominant  ones  during  the  first  months ;  but 
they  are  not  the  only  ones  that  children  feel. 

Fear. — The  automatic  instinct  of  fear  exhibits  itself  in 
infants  from  the  very  first.  We  may  even,  moreover,  see 
obscure  manifestations  of  this  instinct  in  the  tremblings 
produced  in  the  foetus  by  any  sudden  terror  in  the  mother. 
A  lady  who  had  had  a  great  shock  three  months  before  the 
birth  of  her  child,  felt  the  child  move  convulsively  within  her. 
The  baby  only  lived  three  months ;  and  during  this  time  it 
used  frequently  to  give  those  violent  starts,  without  any 
external  cause,  which  characterize  excessive  fear.  These  are 
indisputably  the  effects  of  congenital  imaginativeness,  against 
which  a  mother  and  those  around  her  should  guard  as 
much  as  possible. 

As  for  the  tremblings,  the  screams,  the  cessation  or  pre- 
cipitation of  breathing,  which  are  common  symptoms  of  fear 
in  new-born  children,  their  cause  is  often  so  slight  that  it  is 
not  always  possible  to  foresee  or  prevent  them.  Sudden 
sounds  and  sights  of  all  sorts  clearly  distinguished,  disturb 
a  child's  rest.  At  three  months,  and  even  earlier,  the  mere 
sight  of  a  strange  face  will  sometimes  so  agitate  a  child  and 
affect  its  breathing,  as  to  make  it  seem  on  the  point  of 
suffocation.  Darwin  has  noticed  signs  of  fear  in  infants 
during  the  first  weeks,  at  the  slightest  unexpected  noise, 
and  later  on  at  any  strange  noise  or  attitude.  He  speaks 
also  of  the  fear  felt  by  some  children  at  a  more  advanced 
age,  on  finding  themselves  in  the  dark ;  but  he  does  not 
tell  us  whether  he  considers  this  tendency  hereditary. 
We  think,  however,  that  such  is  his  opinion,  for  he  at- 
tributes (what  to  my  mind  seems  exaggerated)  the  fear 
felt  by  his  child  in  the  Zoological  Gardens  at  the  sight  of 


THE  SENTIMENTS.  63 

large  animals  "  to  the  hereditary  effects  of  real  dangers  and 
abject  superstitions  which  prevailed  at  the  period  of  savage 
life."  With  all  deference  for  the  opinions  of  this  illustrious 
physiologist,  I  cannot  help  asking  whether  a  little  baby's 
fright  at  the  sight  of  an  enormous  animal  may  not  be  partly 
due  to  its  own  sense  of  comparison ;  and  whether  it  is  neces- 
sary to  go  back  to  the  experience  of  its  savage  ancestors  to 
explain  this  particular  manifestation  of  a  tendency  which  is 
hereditary  only  in  so  far  as  it  is  general. 

The  following  observation  of  Charles  Bell  may  no  doubt 
be  applied  to  the  age  of  six  or  seven  months  : — 

"  If  an  infant  be  laid  upon  the  arms  and  dandled  up  and 
down,  its  body  and  limbs  will  be  at  rest  as  it  is  raised,  but 
in  descending  it  will  struggle  and  make  efforts.  Here  is  the 
indication  of  a  sense,  an  innate  feeling,  of  danger ;  and  we 
may  perceive  its  influence  when  the  child  first  attempts  to 
stand  or  run.  When  set  upon  its  feet,  the  nurse's  arms  forming 
a  hoop  around  it,  without  touching  it,  the  child  slowly  learns 
to  balance  itself  and  stand ;  but  under  a  considerable  appre- 
hension ;  it  will  only  try  to  stand  at  such  a  distance  from 
the  nurse's  knee,  that  if  it  should  fall,  it  can  throw  itself  for 
protection  into  her  lap.  In  these  its  first  attempts  to  use 
its  muscular  frame,  it  is  directed  by  a  fear  which  cannot  as 
yet  be  attributed  to  experience."  ^  If  a  child  tumbles  down 
while  trying  to  walk,  it  sometimes  gives  up  the  attempt  for 
a  long  time.  But  there  is  as  great  difference  in  this  respect 
in  individuals  of  the  human  race,  as  in  the  young  of  animals. 

Like  little  children  in  their  first  efforts  at  difficult  games, 
or  in  their  first  gymnastic  exercises,  some  puppies  exhibit 
remarkable  boldness,  which  no  amount  of  tumbles  can  over- 
come, and  others  a  laughable  degree  of  cowardice  and 
prudence. 

Fright  is  less  often  caused  in  children  between  the  ages 
of  three  and  ten  months  by  visual  than  by  auditory  impres- 
sions ;  with  kittens,  after  the  fifteenth  day,  the  reverse  is  the 
case.     A  child  of  three-and-a-half  months,  in  the  midst  of 


*  The  Hand,  p.  234. 


64      THE   FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

the  alarm  of  a  house  on  fire,  and  surrounded  by  flames  and 
tottering  walls,  showed  neither  astonishment  nor  fear ;  he 
even  smiled  at  the  woman  who  was  taking  care  of  him  and 
keeping  watch  over  the  furniture  while  waiting  for  his 
parents.  But  the  sound  of  the  bugle,  and  of  the  firemen 
coming  up,  and  the  noise  of  the  engine  wheels  made  him 
tremble  and  cry.  I  have  never  seen  a  child  at  this  age 
startled  by  lightning,  however  vivid  ;  but  I  have  seen  many  \/^ 
terrified  by  the  sound  of  thunder.  On  this  point  my  obser- 
vations are  in  opposition  to  those  of  Rousseau  and  Herbert 
Spencer.  The  former  thinks  erroneously,  with  Locke,  that 
fear  is  a  sentiment  derived  from  experience  of  hurtful  or 
dangerous  things,  and  that,  in  the  absence  of  very  startling 
impressions,  it  does  not  become  developed  in  children.  "  I 
have  noticed,"  he  says,  "  that  children  are  rarely  frightened 
at  thunder,  at  least  if  the  claps  are  not  too  violent,  and  do 
not  hurt  the  ear ;  otherwise  this  fear  does  not  disturb  them 
until  they  have  learnt  to  associate  thunder  with  danger  and 
possible  death."  1    Herbert  Spencer's  opinion  is  as  follows : — 

"  It  happens,  no  doubt,  that  a  child  may  be  seized  with 
terror  at  a  clap  of  thunder;  and  an  ignorant  person  will 
regard  a  comet  with  superstitious  terror.  But  claps  of 
thunder  and  comets  are  not  every-day  phenomena,  and  do 
not  form  part  of  the  usual  order  of  things."  ^  The  fact  is, 
that  certain  children,  in  their  first  months,  are  frightened  by 
certain  very  sharp  or  very  sonorous  sounds,  and  above  all,  by 
unusual  sounds.  It  is  also  true,  as  Locke  and  Rousseau 
have  observed,  that  the  more  a  child  becomes  accustomed 
to  any  sounds,  the  less  it  will  be  frightened  at  them.  A 
child  who  was  very  much  frightened  by  thunder  at  the  age 
of  six  months — say  in  May — would  not  be  so  frightened 
five  months  later,  at  the  end  of  September,  having  heard 
the  same  sound  several  times,  and  having  become  familiar 
with  it.  But  at  a  still  later  age,  owing  possibly  to  bad 
training,  this  fear  will  reassert  its  dominion. 

There  is  a  kind  of  natural  fear,  organic  and  hereditary,     V^ 


*  Emile,  livre  I.  ^  Principles  of  Sociology,  vol.  i. 


THE  SENTIMENTS.  6$ 

the  result  of  anterior  experiences,  and  which  is  a  safeguard 
to  the  young  infant  against  certain  very  real  dangers,  of 
which  it  has  not  yet  had  any  experience.  This  is  the  reason 
why  fear  is  stronger  and  more  easily  excited  at  five  years 
old  than  at  three,  and  at  three  years  than  at  six  months, 
and  also  why  it  is  more  apt  to  be  aroused  in  little  children 

v^y  auditory  impressions  than  by  visual  ones.  The  anterior 
life  of  civilized  man  has  rather  predisposed  the  race  to  listen 
for  dangers  which  are  near  at  hand,  than  to  be  on  the  look- 
out for  distant  ones;  ie.y  the  ear  has  been  more  trained  to 
keep  watch  than  the  eye.  And  accordingly,  setting  aside 
all  individual  susceptibiUties,  which  are  the  fruits  of  special 
heredity,  we  find  that  in  the  inexperienced  infant  fear  is 

V  excited  rather  through  the  ear  than  the  eye.  It  is  natural 
that  the  reverse  should  be  the  case  in  animals,  so  organized 
as  to  perceive  danger  from  afar.  Thus,  though  I  have  never 
come  across  a  child  who  was  frightened  at  the  first  sight  of 
fire,  I  have  found  the  contrary  to  be  the  case  in  several 
kinds  of  domestic  animals — dogs,  cats,  chickens,  and  birds 
for  instance.  A  chicken  found  lying  half-dead  in  the  garden 
was  brought  indoors  and  placed  near  the  fire;  and,  in  spite  of 
its  feeble  condition,  it  quickly  hopped  away  from  it.  It  was 
brought  back  again  and  placed  on  a  stool,  and  after  a  good 
deal  of  coaxing  and  petting  it  began  to  lose  all  fear,  shut  its 
eyes,  and  fell  asleep.  It  was  then  left  to  itself;  and  whether 
that  it  was  too  feeble  to  fly  away,  or  that  it  had  become 
happy  in  its  new  situation,  it  remained  perfectly  still  there 
all  the  rest  of  the  day  and  the  following  night.  The  next 
day  it  had  quite  recovered,  but  it  came  back  of  its  own 
accord  to  take  up  its  position  an  the  footstool.  For  several 
years  past  I  have  given  a  home  to  a  stray  cat.  She  was 
about  a  year  old  when  I  first  took  her  in.  A  few  months  - 
after,  when  the  cold  weather  set  in,  I  lighted  a  fire  in  my 
study,  which  is  also  the  cat's  sitting-room.  At  first  puss 
looked  at  the  flames  with  a  frightened  expression.  I  made 
her  come  near  the  fire,  but  she  bounded  away  and  hid  her- 
self. I  had  a  fire  in  the  room  every  day,  but  it  was  not  until 
towards  the  end  of  the  winter  that  I  could  induce  the  cat  to 
remain  on  a  chair  near  it.    By  the  following  winter,  however, 


66      THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

her  fears  had  disappeared,  and  she  would  as  a  matter  of 
course  seat  herself  on  a  chair  in  front  of  the  fire.  Noise  of 
any  description  at  once  puts  her  on  her  guard — with  her 
eyes,  not  with  her  ears  ;  the  sound  of  thunder  or  of  a  heavy 
waggon  causes  her  to  look  up  suddenly  at  the  ceiling,  and 
then  to  listen  at  the  window;  the  reason  of  this  is,  that  the 
shadows  of  objects  passing  along  the  street  in  the  evening 
often  flit  across  the  ceiling  of  my  room,  as  I  only  have  my 
shutters  half-closed.  The  conclusion,  then,  that  we  arrive  at 
is,  that  there  are  predispositions  to  fear  which  are  indepen- 
dent of  all  experience,  but  which  the  gradual  accumulation 
of  experience  lessens  very  considerably,  and  that  in  the  case 
of  children  they  are  chiefly  connected  with  the  sense  of 
hearing. 

Anger. — During  the  first  weeks  of  existence  children's 
instmctive  mode  of  expressing  the  pain  which  any  object 
inflicts  on  them  seems  to  consist  only  in  screams  and  move- 
ments of  resistance.  But  when  about  two  months  old,  they 
begin  to  push  away  objects  that  they  do  not  like,  and  have 
real  fits  of  passion,  frowning,  growing  red  in  the  face,  trem- 
bling all  over,  and  sometimes  shedding  tears.  At  three 
months  old,  they  begin  to  experience  the  feeling  of  jealousy, 
which  is  shown  in  tears,  screams,  and  contortions,  if  one 
pretends  to  be  going  to  take  away  their  feeding-bottle  or 
any  other  object  of  their  affections.  They  also  become  very 
much  irritated  if  they  cannot  at  once  get  at  their  mother's 
breast,  or  when  being  washed,  or  having  their  clothes 
changed,  or  if  their  wishes  are  not  guessed  and  satisfied 
quickly  enough.  At  six  months  they  will  scream  with  im- 
patience if  their  toys  are  taken  from  them.  This  may  be 
either  owing  to  an  inborn  instinct  of  proprietorship,  or  be- 
cause of  the  amusement  which  their  toys  aff"ord  them. 

At  this  same  period  their  movements  and  cries  during 
sleep  appear  to  indicate  painful  dreams.  Towards  the  age 
of  one  year  their  anger  sometimes  exhibits  itself  in  hurtful  , 
actions  in  which  we  see,  so  to  speak,  the  germ  of  the  passion 
of  revenge.  They  will  beat  people,  animals,  and  inanimate 
objects  if  they  are  angry  with  them ;  they  will  throw  their 
toys,  their  food,  their  plate,  anything,  in  short,  that  is  at 


THE  SENTIMENTS.  6/ 

hand,  at  the  people  who  have  displeased  them,  or  simply  at 
the  first  person  near,  when  it  is  the  objects  that  have  caused 
displeasure.  Thus  anger  has  its  origin,  and  that  at  a  very 
early  age,  both  in  simple  and  complex  sentiments,  and  is 
^  expressed  either  by  simple  and  automatic  actions  or  by 
^complex  ones  acquired  personally. 

If  the  theory  of  evolution  is  true,  it  is  necessary  for  the 
young  human  being  to  pass  through,  in  a  certain  gradadon, 
all  the  principal  stages  which  have  brought  his  ancestors 
from  animalism  up  to  the  first  beginnings  of  civilization.  It 
is  but  natural  that  a  child  should  at  one  moment  reproduce 
this  ancestor,  at  another  resemble  that  savage,  with  whom 
many  would  identify  primitive  man.  Now,  irascibility  is 
one  of  the  special  characteristics  of  inferior  races.  Irrita- 
bility and  impulsiveness  are,  with  few  exceptions,  funda- 
mental traits  of  all  these  races. 

"  Spite  of  their  usually  unimpassioned  behaviour,  the 
Dakotahs  rise  into  frightful  states  of  bloody  fury  when  kill- 
ing buffaloes  ;  and  among  the  phlegmatic  Creeks,  there  are 
"very  frequent  suicides,  caused  by  trifling  disappointments." 
.  .  .  Passing  from  North  America  to  Asia,  we  come  to 
the  Kamtschadales ;  of  whom  we  read  that  they  are  "  ex- 
citable," not  to  say  (for  men)  hysterical.  A  light  matter 
set  them  mad,  or  made  them  commit  suicide."  .  .  . 
Among  the  Negrittos  the  Papuan  is  "  impetuous,  excitable, 
noisy;"  the  Fijians  have  "emotions  easily  roused  but 
transient."  .  .  .  The  Tasmanians  "  quickly  change  from 
smiles  to  tears."  .  .  .  The  Fuegians  "  have  hasty 
tempers,  and  are  loud  and  furious  talkers."  "There  are 
the  Australians,  whose  impulsiveness  Sturt  implies  by  saying 
that  the  'angry  Australian ///^  exceeds  the  European  scold,' 
and  that  a  man  '  remarkable  for  haughtiness  and  reserve^ 
sobbed  long  when  his  nephew  was  taken  from  him.' "  ^ 

This  impulsiveness  and  irascibility  are  in  our  children 
legacies  inherited  from  our  primitive  ancestors  :  they  are,  as  it 
were,  instinctive  weapons  of  defence,  and  native  instruments 


*  Herbert  Spencer,  Principles  of  Sociology,  pp.  63  etc. 


^ 


68      THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

of  self-preservation.  It  appears  then  a  priori  to  be  estab- 
lished, that  systematic  evolution,  or  education,  should  preserve 
this  force  while  disciplining  it.  But  experience  alone  can 
teach  us  what  may  be  the  consequence,  either  in  infancy  or  in 
the  future,  of  combating  or  encouraging  these  sentiments, 
and  consequently  what  place  we  should  allow  this  moral 
factor  in  education. 

^  Anger  is  legitimate  in  young  children  when  it  expresses  ^ 
unconscious  revolt  against  the  first  sufferings  of  life — convul- 
sions, colic,  pains  of  teething,  discomfort  produced  by  fever, 
or  by  the  want  of  air,  of  locomotion,  or  of  sleep.  The 
screams  and  movements  in  which  they  vent  their  anger  dis- 
tract and  relieve  them,  in  a  certain  measure,  from  the  feeling 
of  pain  ;  and  to  the  parents  or  guardians  of  the  child  they 
are  warnings  dictated  by  nature  herself.  In  like  manner, 
when  a  child,  in  its  first  awkward  attempts  at  speech,  has 
given  a  wrong  idea  of  its  meaning,  it  is  quite  justified  in 
screaming,  beating  the  ground  with  its  foot,  and  showing 
indignation  at  being  so  badly  understood  when  it  thought 
it  had  spoken  so  well.  It  has  still  more  right  to  be  angry, 
when,  after  having  been  accustomed  by  its  nurse  to  any  bad  ^ 
habit,  such  as  being  rocked  to  sleep  in  its  cradle  or  in  any 
one's  arms,  or  being  put  to  bed  with  a  light  in  the  room, 
these  habits  are  suddenly  discontinued ;  still  more  so  again,  '^ 
when,  without  regard  for  its  delicate  sensitiveness,  we  try  to 
force  it  to  do  something  which,  either  from  nature  or  habit,  is 
repulsive  to  it,  such  as  swallowing  a  bitter  draught,  or  under- 
going some  punishment  or  privation  without  complaining, 
or  kissing  a  person  it  dislikes.  Another  case,  mentioned  by 
Rousseau,  in  which  a  child's  anger  is  perfectly  legitimate,  is 
when  the  nurse  beats  it  for  crying,  and,  an  additional  form 
of  suffering  being  thus  added  to  that  which  he  probably 
experienced  before,  he  expresses  both  by  loud  screams  and 
rage. 

[     There  are  also  certain  forms  of  impatience  which  betoken 
f  a  frank  and  generous  character,  and  which  are  closely  allied 
with  the  budding  of  the  earhest  moral  virtues.     A  young 
child,  for  instance,  who  delights  in  walking  alone,  altliough  .^ 
at  the  risk  of  falling,   will  get  extremely  angry  if  any  one 


THE   SENTIMENTS.  69 

should  persist  in  trying  to  help  him.  At  a  later  age,  again, 
suppose  a  child  to  repeat  in  his  mother's  presence  some 
foolish  joke  which  the  servants  had  always  been  very  much 
amused  at,  but  in  which  his  mother  sees  nothing  to  laugh 
at,  his  face  will  get  very  red  and  he  will  close  his  lips  firmly, 
evidently  feeling  that  he  has  exposed  himself  to  ridicule  and 
appearing  quite  irritated  with  himself.  Again,  at  about  two 
years  old,  when  a  child  is  suddenly  punished  severely  by 
some  person  who  had  before  been  generally  indulgent  to 
him,  he  will  fly  into  a  passion  for  a  punishment  which  he 
would  have  received  submissively  had  it  been  inflicted  by 
his  parents.  Once  more,  if  he  sees  two  children  fighting 
in  the  street,  he  will  run  up  to  them  with  clenched  fists  and 
crimson  cheeks,  and  try  to  separate  them.  Are  not  all  these 
ebullitions  of  temper  invaluable  guides  to  the  knowledge  of 
a  child's  character  and  helps  in  its  moral  education  ? 

But  if  anger  has  its  good  sides,  its  use  and  justification,  it 
has  also  its  evils  and  abuses.     It  is  often  the  outcome  of 

^caprice,  jealousy,  hatred — of  all  the  hostile  passions,  com- 
bativeness,  destructiveness,  and  vengeance.  It  is  the  two- 
edged  sword  of  human  wickedness,  which  wounds  the 
striker  as  well  as  the  victim.     If  indulged  in  too  frequently, 

\/  it  will  injure  the  mofal  and  physical  development  of  the 
child,  who  ought  always  to  be  surrounded  by  an  atmosphere 
of  peaceful  serenity,  and  in  whom  we  should  endeavour  to 
maintain  calmness  and  tranquiUity  of  spirit.  Outbursts  of 
anger  may  have  specially  disastrous  eff'ects  on  children  pre- 
disposed to  convulsive  maladies  at  an  age  when  the  muscular 
system  is  not  sufficiently  developed  to  counteract  shocks  to 
the  nervous  system.  What  is  more  likely  to  hinder  the 
growth  of  good-humour  or  docility  in  a  child,  than  the  habit 
of  getting  irritated  at  the  slightest  cause— because  an  object 
he  tries  to  take  hold  of  slips  out  of  his  hands,  or  because  he 
is  given  something  to  eat  or  to  play  with  that  he  does  not 
like,  or  because  a  stranger  speaks  to  him  or  kisses  him  ? 
What  less  pleasing  spectacle  can  there  be,  than  that  of  a 
pretty  little  child  a  year  or  two  old,  who  habitually  vents  its 
anger  on  the  furniture,  the  books,  flowers,  fruit,  or  food,  the 
cat  or  the  dog,  its  nurses,  or  even  its  parents  ? 


70      THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

I  have  seen  a  capricious  little  creature  eleven  months 
old  put  herself  in  a  violent  temper  because  she  could  not 
succeed  in  seizing  hold  of  her  grandfather's  nose  !  Another 
child  I  know  of  had  a  beautiful  doll,  of  which  she  was  very 
fond ;  her  parents  took  her  once  with  them  to  Cauterets, 
and  on  getting  out  of  the  carriage  she  saw  another  child 
with  a  doll  just  like  her  own ;  instantly  there  were  screams 
and  paroxysms  of  rage  !  She  flew  upon  the  child,  scratched 
her,  beat  her,  and  bit  her  ;  and  she  had  to  be  carried  away 
by  force.  Her  fury  was  so  great  that  she  was  quite  ill  from 
it  for  several  days.  Another  little  girl  of  the  same  age  had 
such  fits  of  passion  every  evening  when  her  mother  was 
putting  her  to  bed,  that  the  neighbours  would  sometimes 
come  in  and  help  to  quiet  her.  There  was  one  person 
whom  she  specially  dreaded,  and  the  sight  of  whom  was 
sufficient  to  quiet  her  :  this  was  a  gentleman  with  a  loud 
voice  and  a  long  beard,  who  sometimes  whipped  her  in  her 
cot.  A  little  boy  fifteen  months  old  used  to  bite  his  mother 
when  she  put  him  to  bed.  Another  child,  three  years  old, 
who  had  been  sent  away  from  the  dining-room  on  account 
of  his  naughty  behaviour,  came  back  soon  after  and  laid 
himself  down  on  the  floor  across  the  doorway,  throwing  out 
his  arms  and  legs,  and  screaming  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

Having  thus  pointed  out  the  use  and  the  abuse  of  anger,  it 
seems  to  me  that  we  may,  on  a  posteriori  as  well  as  on  a 
priori  grounds,  place  this  passion  among  that  class  of  animal 
sentiments  which  it  would  be  waste  of  time  to  endeavour  to 
exterminate,  but  which  need  to  be  carefully  directed  and  con-  V" 
trolled.  We  should  recognise  in  the  passionate  temper  one 
of  the  most  fruitful  principles  of  human  activity,  one  which, 
if  united  with  sympathy,  will  lead  to  acts  of  self-devotion 
and  may  help  in  the  formation  of  moral  habits  by  obliging 
the  child  to  examine  himself  and  his.  own  actions,  or  by 
inspiring  him,  as  far  as  his  tender  age  permits,  with  a  germ 
of— 

.     .     .     ces  haines  vigoureuses 
Que  doit  donner  le  vice  aux  ames  genereuses. 

Jealousy. — The  instinct  of  jealousy,  common  to  all  animals, 


THE   SENTIMENTS.  7I 

but  unequally  distributed  amongst  individuals  of  the  same 
species,  manifests  itself  in  very  different  ways  and  circum- 
stances. It  is  not  always  the  sign  of  very  acute  sensibility 
or  of  strong  personality,  for  it  shows  itself  very  markedly  ■ 
in  young  children  and  in  adults  of  a  calm  and  equable 
temperament.  Sometimes  it  will  burst  into  flame,  like  latent 
fire.  Sometimes  it  smoulders  on  like  burning  ashes.  Love 
and  affection  are  its  most  violent  excitants  ;  but  any  trifling 
cause  may  also  give  rise  to  it.  A  cat  or  a  dog  will  be  jealous 
of  each  other  about  their  food,  or  about  a  favourite  place, 
a  plaything,  or  a  caress.  A  sparrow  tamed  by  a  lady  was 
jealous  of  the  cats  when  its  mistress  fondled  them,  and  of 
the  visitors  who  came  to  see  her;  its  attitudes  and  cries 
plainly  betokened  this.  In  like  manner  a  child  will  show 
jealousy  if  any  one  approaches  its  nurse,  or  touches  its 
bottle,  or  is  caressed  by  its  mother.  A  child  of  fifteen 
months  was  evidently  jealous  if  sugar  or  dessert  was  given 
to  its  nurse. 

This  feeling  is  roused  by  very  different  objects,  and  is 
sometimes  confounded  with  envy  and  the  desire  of  appro- 
priation and  imitation.  Children  often  want  things  not  so 
much  for  the  sake  of  having  and  enjoying  them,  as  because 
they  do  not  like  to  see  them  in  the  possession  of  others. 
And  what  applies  to  things  applies  also  to  persons.  A  child 
of  fifteen  months  used  to  enact  very  curious  little  scenes  out 
of  jealousy.  If  his  father  and  mother  kissed  each  other  in 
his  presence,  he  would  run  up  and  try  to  separate  them, 
scolding  and  pushing  away  his  father,  who  was  by  no  means 
the  favourite.  The  same  child,  at  this  age,  could  never  see 
anything  in  anybody  else's  hand  without  asking  for  it,  or 
trying  to  touch  or  take  hold  of  it ;  nothing  could  ever  be 
done  in  his  presence,  without  his  wanting  to  meddle  in  it. 
In  the  kitchen  he  must  have  a  knife,  or  something  like  a 
knife,  and  pretend  to  be  at  work  with  the  parings  of  the 
vegetables  while  the  servant  is  preparing  the  dinner.  When 
his  older  brother  is  writing,  he  insists  on  having  a  high  chair 
at  the  table  and  some  paper  and  a  pen,  and  then  he  fancies 
that  he  is  doing  the  same  as  his  brother ;  once  he  gravely 
asked  for  his  father's  razor,  that  he  too  might  shave.     Thus 


/. 


2      THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

we  see  that  the  proprietary  and  imitative  tendencies  enter 
largely  into  the  displays  of  envy  and  jealousy. 

Fathers,  by  the  way,  need  not  be  troubled  by  the  prefer- 
ence their  little  children  generally  show  for  their  mother  or 
nurse.  This  is  quite  natural,  and  more  favourable  than 
other^wise  to  their  moral  and  intellectual  development. 
Mothers,  on  their  part,  need  not  be  unduly  distressed  at  the 
inconstancy  of  their  little  hearts.  They  will  right  themselves 
in  time,  provided  the  parents  do  their  duty  by  their  chil- 
dren j  and  manifestations  of  jealousy  in  either  father  or 
mother  would  be  a  very  bad  example  to  a  child. 

There  is  always,  no  doubt,  a  little  self-love,  if  not  vanity, 
mixed  up  with  the  jealousy  a  child  feels  towards  its  brothers 
and  sisters,  especially  with  regard  to  the  marks  of  tender- 
ness and  attention  which  are  shown  them.  Tiedemann 
says  of  his  son,  at  the  age  of  twenty-two  months,  "Jealousy 
and  vanity  became  stronger  and  stronger;  if  any  one  praised 
his  little  sister,  he  instantly  came  up  to  be  praised  also  ;  he 
always  endeavoured  to  get  away  from  her  whatever  had  been 
given  her,  and  he  would  even  hit  her  on  the  sly."  When 
this  little  sister  was  born,  the  boy  had  shown  signs  of  dis- 
pleasure ;  he  wanted  to  beat  her  whenever  he  saw  her  on 
his  mother's  lap  or  in  his  own  cot,  because  it  was  disagree- 
able to  him  to  see  anything  which  he  had  possessed 
exclusively  for  some  time  taken  away  from  him. 

One  of  my  nephews,  at  the  age  of  three  years,  used  con- 
tinually to  talk  of  the  little  brother  he  was  soon  to  have. 
"  I  shall  love  him  so  much,"  he  would  say  at  every  instant. 
But  when  he  saw  the  baby  taking  up  his  mother's  lap  and 
kisses  and  caresses,  and  his  father's  care  and  attention,  he 
expressed  his  annoyance  loudly.  He  even  said  to  his 
mother  one  day :  "  Won't  little  Ferdinand  soon  die  ? " 
When  the  baby  began  to  walk  and  talk,  the  elder  child  would 
torment  him  in  hundreds  of  naughty  ways,  beating  him, 
dragging  him  out  of  his  chair  in  order  to  take  his  place, 
shouting  in  his  ears,  calling  him  naughty  and  ugly,  taking 
away  his  toys,  and  mimicking  his  way  of  talking  and  walk- 
ing. 

Sentimejits  of  various  kinds. — When  experience  has  taught 


THE   SENTIMENTS.  73 

a  young  child  to  know  a  certain  number  of  objects  as  having 
the  power  to  afford  him  pleasant  or  painful  sensations  of 
sight  or  touch,  his  waking  hours  begin  to  be  more  and  more 
divided  between  his  meals  and  his  playthings.  To  the  in- 
stinct of  hunger  or  greediness,  still  dominant  but  no  longer 
exclusive,  there  are  now  added  fresh  wants,  which  the  Scotch 
call  intellectual,  because  they  imply  a  certain  growth  of  the 
intelligence. 

Here  is  a  child  of  eight  months,  of  ordinary  intelligence. 
He  is  interested  in  a  number  of  objects  which  have  nothing 
to  do  with  his  palate,  and  which  he  only  carries  to  his 
mouth  accidentally.  These  objects  are  instruments  of  play 
and  study  for  the  child.  He  handles  them,  turns  them 
round  and  round,  knocks  them  down,  sets  them  up  again, 
throws  them  away,  fetches  them  back,  crawls  after  them  on 
all  fours  when  they  are  out  of  his  reach,  knocks  them  one 
against  the  other,  puts  them  inside  each  other,  thrusts  his 
liands  into  them,  piles  them  up  in  heaps  and  then  knocks 
them  down;  in  short,  disports  himself  with  them  and  learns 
from  them  in  a  thousand  different  ways.  Sight  and  touch, 
which  before  seemed  generally  mere  auxiliaries  of  taste, 
now  act  on  their  own  account ;  the  original  synthetic  con- 
dition of  the  functions  has  now  given  place  to  an  analytic 
condition  which  gains  daily  in  strength  and  delicacy ;  the 
concentric  circles  of  sensations,  perceptions,  judgments, 
sentiments,  go  on  expanding ;  and  henceforth  my  friend  the 
savant  is  able  to  admire  the  little  animal,  who  rises  day  by 
day  and  hour  by  hour  to  the  level  of  a  little  man. 

Take  another  child  of  eleven  months.  He  is  passionately 
fond  of  his  bottle,  which  is  for  him  the  embodiment  of  ex- 
quisite enjoyment ;  but  he  has  made  acquaintance  with  a 
certain  number  of  other  eatables — soup,  bread,  meat,  cakes, 
fruit,  etc. — which  he  seems  to  Hke  as  much  as  his  first  food. 
However,  when  his  appetite  is  satisfied,  and  he  is  taken 
back  to  his  toys,  one  sees  that  he  enjoys  them  just  as  much, 
if  not  in  the  same  manner,  as  he  did  eating  and  drinking. 
He  shows  the  same  desire  to  seize  hold  of  them,  the  same 
attraction  towards  them,  the  same  distress  if  they  are  taken 
away  ;  his  expressions,  gestures,  and  attitudes  of  delight  prove 


74      THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

that  they  afford  him  equally  agreeable  sensations.  Then 
again  I  perceive  that  he  shows  love  for  his  mother,  his  nurse, 
his  sisters,  his  aunt— in  fact,  for  all  the  people  who  feed,  pet, 
talk  to,  and  amuse  him.  Moreover,  there  are  evidently 
different  degrees  in  his  affection.  He  seems  more  pleased 
to  go  to  the  arms  of  his  mother  or  nurse  than  to  his  little 
sister,  who  hugs  him  so  awkwardly  that  she  sometimes  makes 
him  cry,  or  to  his  aunt,  who  means  to  be  very  loving  and 
caressing,  but  who  does  not  look  so,  and  who,  in  addition 
to  a  repelling  countenance,  has  a  shrill  voice.  This  child 
brightens  up  at  the  sight  of  a  young  or  pretty  face,  but  shows 
very  little  interest  in  old  or  ugly  ones,  or  faces  covered  with 
veils.  His  affections  vary  according  to  the  nature  of  objects 
and  the  sensations  they  afford  him,  and  according  to  the 
character,  manners,  and  actions  of  different  persons  ;  he  has 
also  his  dislikes,  both  for  persons  and  for  things.  He  gets 
exasperated  when  a  little  neighbour,  seven  years  old,  who 
has  played  him  several  tricks  and  made  faces  at  him,  comes 
up  to  him  to  kiss  him.  One  of  his  uncles  often  brings  with 
him  a  little  black  dog,  much  given  to  barking ;  and  the  mere 
sight  of  this  animal  distresses  the  child.  Soap  and  water, 
and  towels,  the  rod,  and  the  enema  syringe,  he  looks  upon 
as  personal  enemies.  Inanimate  objects  have  a  large  share 
in  the  sentiments  of  little  children.  The  pleasure  and  the 
pain  which  these  objects  cause  to  some  of  his  senses  are  the 
germ  of  all  these  affections  and  repulsions.  But  curiosity 
and  the  incessant  need  of  new  and  vivid  emotions  are  his 
stimulants,  and  furnish  daily  food  for  his  affective  sensibility. 
The  affections  of  a  child,  however,  like  the  curiosity  which 
excites  them,  are  very  transitory.  They  glide  from  object 
to  object,  from  person  to  person.  Owing  to  their  ignor- 
ance and  feeble  power  of  attention,  they  are  unable  to  oc- 
cupy themselves  long  with  one  person  or  object  which 
cannot  vary  and  be  metamorphosed  every  instant  to  suit  their 
restless  curiosity.  Here  is  a  child  of  ten  months.  He  con- 
fuses flowers  with  other  inanimate  objects;  a  piece  of  rose- 
coloured  paper  excites  in  him  as  vivid  and  durable  a  feel- 
ing of  curiosity  and  pleasure  as  would  a  beautiful  rose. 
When   I  sniff  a  rose  in  his  presence,  and  invite  him  to 


THE  SENTIMENTS.  75 

imitate  me,  saying  to  him,  "  It  smells  so  nice,"  he  draws  in 
his  breath  and  looks  pleased,  showing  that  he  is  sensible 
of  the  sweet  smell  of  the  rose ;  but  the  sensations  which 
perfumes  excite  in  us  are  so  quickly  effaced  that  the  artificial 
habits  of  adults  are  necessary  in  order  to  appreciate  them, 
and  to  like  flowers  for  the  sake  of  their  smells.  These  sub- 
tle charms,  so  keenly  enjoyed  by  grown-up  people,  soon 
cease  for  children.  With  regard  to  these  fragile  works  of 
nature,  their  pleasure  is  still  more  fragile,  especially  when 
they  hold  them  in  their  hands.  They  will  jump  with  de- 
light at  first  seeing  and  smelling  them,  but  will  very  soon 
leave  them  for  something  else.  The  infant  organization, 
more  feeble  than  our  own,  is  subject,  almost  without  excep- 
tion, to  the  law  of  nature  according  to  which  the  most  vivid 
sensations  are  the  least  enduring.  This  is  the  reason  why 
objects  which  excite  in  children  sensations  keenly  painful 
or  pleasant,  never  please  or  distress  them  for  any  length  of 
time. 

Anifnal  Sympathy. — Animate  objects  have  rather  more 
power  than  inanimate  ones  of  arresting  the  attention  and 
awakening  curiosity,  and  hence  of  exciting  the  emotions  of 
children.  Dogs,  cats,  sheep,  birds,  chickens  —  all  these 
creatures  are  par  excellence  their  objects  of  recreation,  in- 
struction, and  afifection.  And  it  is  not  strange  that  it  should 
be  so.  They  afford  all  the  gratifications  of  sight  and  hear- 
ing combined,  all  the  various  pleasures  of  touch,  and  that 
latent  voluptuousness  which  follows  the  satisfaction  of  the  ap- 
petite of  movement.  Added,  also,  to  the  perpetual  renewal 
of  curiosity  excited  by  these  animals,  are  the  no  less  powerful 
influences  of  animal  sympathy.  How  intense  is  a  child's 
delight  when  almost  strangling  one  of  these  good-natured 
creatures  in  its  eager  grasp.  It  seems  like  its  own  life,  its 
own  personality,  vibrating  in  those  organs  which  beat  with 
the  same  movements  as  his  own.  This  feeling,  which  is 
hereditary  rather  than  acquired  by  sympathy,  sometimes  has 
phases  of  superior  excitation  :  the  games,  the  caresses,  the 
screams  of  delight,  the  gentle  purrings,  the  wailings  ^nd 
moans  of  a  cat  or  a  dog,  all  this  combination  of  sympathetic 
sensations  stimulate  the  curiosity  and  excite  to  the  highest 


^6      THE   FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

pitch  the  affections  produced  by  the  increased  gratification 
of  the  senses  of  sight,  hearing,  touch,  and  movement  which 
the  presence  of  these  animals  affords  children. 

This  sympathy  for  animals,  however,  does  not  include 
moral  sympathy.  The  child  of  a  neighbour  of  mine,  who 
is  two  months  old,  and  who  plays  all  day  long  with  the  cat 
and  the  dog,  loves  these  animals  more  for  its  own  sake  than 
for  theirs,  i.e.^  for  the  pleasure  they  afford  him.  It  does  not 
seem  to  occur  to  him  that  these  creatures  can  also  suffer 
and  enjoy.  Their  gambols,  their  happy  bark  or  mew,  de- 
light him  ;  their  cries  of  anger  or  pain  frighten  and  distress 
him,  and  that  is  about  all.  The  dog  being  more  good- 
natured  than  the  cat,  there  is  no  trial  to  which  this  child 
will  not  subject  its  patience;  I  have  seen  him  pull  him 
by  the  tail,  by  the  paws,  by  the  ears,  and  even  bite  his 
tail,  thrust  all  sorts  of  things  into  his  jaws,  throw  all  his  toys 
on  him,  drop  a  chair  down  upon  him,  or  beat  him  with  his 
wooden  spade,  etc.,  etc.  The  other  day,  the  nurse  seated 
this  child  on  the  lawn,  and  put  a  tortoise  near  him  to  amuse 
him.  At  first  he  looked  at  the  animal  with  great  curiosity, 
and  seeing  this,  the  nurse  left  him  alone  for  a  moment ;  on 
her  return,  the  tortoise  had  one  leg  half  torn  off,  and  this 
enthusiastic  student  of  natural  history  was  occupied  in  pull- 
ing off  another  with  all  his  strength.  This  insensibility  to  L 
the  suffering  of  animals,  unless  it  is  very  evident  to  the  eye 
or  ear,  is  very  common  in  children,  and  even  in  a  great 
number  of  adults;  but  it  is  due  to  a  faulty  education,  rather  1.^ 
than  to  a  defect  in  natural  sensibility.  I  have  often  heard 
ignorant,  uneducated,  people  assert  that  such  and  such  ani- 
mals or  insects  could  not  feel  pain.  And  have  not  the  ex- 
treme advocates  of  the  automatism  of  beasts, — Malebranche 
among  others, — positively  declared  that  they  do  not  feel  ? 
It  is  remarkable,  moreover,  that  a  learned  man,  the  cele- 
brated Lamarck,  one  of  the  precursors  of  Darwin,  has  dis- 
tinguished a  part  of  the  animal  kingdom  by  the  name  of 
apathetic  animals. 

HiL7naii  Sympathy. — A  child  of  twelve  months  who  came 
back  to  his  father's  house  after  a  month's  absence,  took  no 
notice  of  the  purrings  and  caresses  with  which  his  old  friend 


THE  SENTIMENTS.  TJ 

the  cat  welcomed  him  home.  He  hardly  noticed  the  dog 
either,  though  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  seeing  him  every 
day,  and  had  sometimes  been  allowed  to  play  with  him,  and 
used  to  repeat  his  name.  It  took  him  ten  minutes  or  more 
to  recover  his  familiarity  with  either  of  them.  Scarcely 
however,  did  he  catch  sight  of  the  faithful  old  servant — be- 
fore even  she  had  called  him  by  his  name — than  he  held 
out  his  arms  to  her,  starting  and  jumping  with  delight. 
The  fact  is,  that  though  children  often  seem  to  love  cats  and 
dogs  as  much  as  their  parents  or  nurse,  they  forget  animals 
much  faster  than  people.  A  rather  older  child  remembers 
animals  much  better,  and  will  even  speak  of  them  constantly 
when  away  from  them.  But  I  think  that  in  gener^-l  the 
affection  they  feel  for  people  is  of  a  deeper  nature.  Setting 
aside  the  tendencies  to  human  sympathy  which  are  the  re-  . 
suit  of  organization  and  heredity,  man  is  always  necessary  \/ 
to  man  ;  and  this  is  especially  the  case  with  the  little  child,  "^ 
th^  ^'' etre  ondoyant  et  divers^^  the  subject  of  ever  new 
curiosity,  always  seeking  fresh  gratification.  A  little  child 
hangs,  in  the  full  sense  of  the  word,  on  the  looks,  words, 
and  actions  of  the  human  beings  around  him.  Human 
speech  is  in  itself,  apart  from  the  ideas  and  sentiments  it 
expresses,  a  music,  of  which  the  rhythm  and  the  intonations 
correspond  to  the  aesthetic  faculties  of  a  little  child.  The 
ever-changing  expression  of  the  eye  lends  a  further  charm 
to  this  deUghtful  music.  The  eye  is  one  of  the  most  interest- 
ing and  attractive  of  objects  ;  the  vivacity  of  the  pupil  set 
in  its  oval  background  of  white,  its  sparkles,  its  darts  of 
light,  its  tender  looks,  its  liquid  depths,  attract  and  fascinate 
a  young  child,  like  the  roundness  and  the  shifting  patterns 
of  a  beautiful  agate;  it  is  a  source  of  perpetual  enchant- 
ment. Although  children  may  not  be  subtly  sensible  to  all 
the  delicate  impressions  produced  by  beauty,  graceful  figures, 
pleasant  faces  and  manners,  cannot  but  have  a  powerful 
attraction  for  them.  The  play  of  the  human  countenance, 
moreover,  so  strongly  affects  the  organization  of  sensitive 
beings,  that  even  animals  who  do  not  live  habitually  in  the 
company  of  human  beings  will  endeavour  to  find  out  its 
meaning.     And  all  these  objects  of  intense  and  incessant 


78      THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

curiosity  are  associated  in  a  child's  mind  with  the  ideas  of 
caresses,  games,  affection,  pleasure,  nourishment,  i.e.,  all  the 
pleasures,  moral,  intellectual,  and  physical,  that  they  have 
experienced. 

One  sees  in  children,  especially  towards  the  age  of  ten  ,  / 
months,  sudden  fancies  for  new  faces  which  it  is  not  always 
easy  to  explain.  A  young  relation  of  mine,  eleven  months 
old,  came  once  on  a  visit  to  my  family.  On  first  seeing 
me,  his  father  being  present  at  the  time,  he  called  me, 
^^ Papa^ papa''  I  held  out  my  hand  to  him  and  he  seized 
hold  of  my  fingers  and  dragged  me  along,  saying  :  "  Papa, 
mene^  mene.'"  I  at  once  understood  that  he  wanted  me  to 
help  him  to  walk,  and  to  his  great  delight  I  gratified  his 
wish.  During  the  whole  week  that  he  remained  with  us  he 
continued  to  show  a  marked  preference  for  me  over  every 
one  else.  He  would  often  leave  his  mother,  and  his  father 
still  oftener,  to  come  to  me.  Often  at  meals,  when  he  was 
on  his  mother's  lap  at  a  considerable  distance  from  me,  he 
would  fix  his  eyes  on  me,  say  ^^ Papa^  papa^'  and  then  slip 
from  his  mother's  lap  and  scramble  on  all  fours  under  the 
table  up  to  my  feet,  in  the  hopes  that  I  should  take  him  up. 
Sudden  affection  of  this  sort  deserved  to  be  examined  into, 
and  I  believe  that  I  found  the  key  to  the  mystery.  On  the 
day  of  his  arrival,  seeing  me  smoking  a  cigar,  he  began  to 
puff  vigorously  as  if  he  were  blowing  smoke  through  his 
lips.  Now  he  goes  through  this  performance  with  his 
grandfather  ;  the  latter,  moreover,  whom  he  also  calls  papa, 
has  a  long  beard  like  mine.  It  was  no  doubt  these  points 
of  resemblance,  and  possibly  some  others,  such  as  likeness 
in  manner,  figure,  and  voice,  which  caused  me  to  become  at 
once  the  depository  of  the  affection  before  bestowed  on  his 
grandfather.  Now,  however,  he  has  learnt  to  like  me  for 
myself,  or  rather,  I  should  say,  because  of  the  games  I  have 
played  with  him,  and  which  he  cannot  enjoy  without  me. 

Human  beings  are  thus  the  objects  of  children's  most 
marked  affections,  as  they  seem  also  to  be  of  tame  animals. 
It  is  seldom,  however,  that  a  child  manifests  its  sentiments 
with  a  sufficient  degree  of  energy  to  merit  the  name  of 
passion.      Exalted  love — so-called  passion — is  the  charac- 


THE  SENTIMENTS.  79 

teristic  of  the  adult.  It  implies  an  element  of  reflection, 
though  not  perhaps  always  reasonable,  and  a  strong  impulse 
of  the  will,  though  not  always  regulated  ;  and  these  elements 
are  wanting  in  young  children.  They  have  no  such  things 
as  passions,  but,  like  animals,  they  have  attachments  and 
habits.  As  regards  sympathy  properly  so  called,  we  must 
not  look  for  anything  more  in  them  than  the  germ  of  this 
sentiment.  A  young  child  has  not  yet  made  sufficient  trial 
of  the  good  and  evil  of  life,  to  be  able  to  imagine  them  in 
his  fellow-creatures.  He  does  not  sufficiently  understand 
the  full  signification  of  the  facts  which  he  observes,  he  does 
not  possess  in  a  sufficiently  high  degree  the  faculty  of  in- 
duction and  judgment  for  his  sensibility  to  be  affected  by 
the  external  manifestations  of  complex  sentiments.  He 
does  not  experience  those  moral  sufferings  which,  for  the 
adult,  are  often  far  harder  to  bear  than  any  physical  pain. 
He  may  suffer  from  the  deprivation  of  a  beloved  person  or 
object,  but  he  does  not  say  to  himself  that  he  suffers. 
Suffering  is  only  connected  in  his  mind  with  tears  and 
groans. 

A  This  period  of  life,  so  full  of  irreflective  sympathy,  is,  in 
the  words  of  the  fable,  without  pity,  owing  to  want  of  ex- 
perience and  to  feebleness  of  judgment.  Every  day  we  see 
children,  even  as  old  as  three  or  four  years,  innocently  doing 
violence,  by  their  inopportune  remarks  and  cruel  proposals,  - 
to  the  most  sacred  griefs  of  those  who  love  them.  I  re- 
member that,  when  about  five  years  old,  having  lost  a  young 
sister,  I  was  taken  by  my  aunt  to  the  bed  where  the  dead 
child  was  lying.  The  pallor  and  immobility  of  her  face, 
her  half-closed  eyes,  and  her  distorted  mouth  (she  had  died 
of  croup)  all  made  a  deep  impression  on  me ;  but  at  the 
same  time,  she  reminded  me  so  strongly  of  a  very  pale-faced 
little  boy,  whom  I  had  often  noticed  on  my  way  to  school 
on  account  of  his  colourless  complexion,  that  I  could  not 
rest  till  I  had  found  my  mother  to  tell  her  of  this  likeness.J 
A  child  of  four  years  old  had  lost  one  of  his  favourite 
companions ;  he  was  taken  to  the  little  boy's  house,  and 
the  father  took  him  on  his  lap  and  held  him  there  a  few 
minutes  while  giving  way  to  a  fit  of  weeping.     The  child 


y 


80      THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

understood  nothing  of  all  this  grief ;  he  got  down  as  quickly 
as  he  could,  disported  himself  a  Httle  while  about  the  room, 
and  then  suddenly  going  back  to  the  poor  father,  exclaimed  : 
''  Now  that  Peter  is  dead,  you  will  give  me  his  horse  and 
his  drum,  won't  you  ?" 

Sometimes,  however,  we  see  exceptions  to  this  rule.  I 
know  a  Httle  child,  not  yet  three,  who  is  a  striking 
example  of  what  has  been  aptly  called  the  "  memory  of  the 
heart."  His  grandfather  and  father,  whom  he  was  very  fond 
of,  are  both  dead.  The  grandfather  has  been  dead  a  year, 
and  the  father  five  months.  Not  a  day  passes  that  he  does 
not  speak  of  them.  Whenever  he  is  taken  to  his  grand- 
mother's house,  he  seats  himself  on  his  grandfather's  arm- 
chair, asks  to  have  the  curtain  lifted  up  from  grandpapa's 
picture,  and  looks  at  it  with  an  expression  of  real  emotion. 
At  home  he  asks  every  day  for  the  photograph  of  his  father; 
he  kisses  it  and  makes  his  sister  and  his  elder  brother  do  the 
same.  He  understands  why  his  mother  is  sad,  and  says  to 
her,  "  You  are  sad  because  father  is  not  here."  If  he  sees 
her  crying,  he  kisses  her  and  says,  "  Don't  cry ;  I  will  go 
and  fetch  papa,  I  will  make  him  come  back ;  I  have  got 
the  key  of  Paradise." 

Let  me  mention  one  or  two  more  facts  to  show  how 
very  unequally  different  kinds  of  sympathy  may  be  developed 
in  the  same  child.  The  following  facts  were  furnished  me 
by  a  friend :  "  Since  I  have  been  under  hydropathic  treat- 
ment, it  has  twice  happened  that  the  child  (sixteen  months 
old)  has  been  present  at  the  operations.  .  .  .  Each 
time,  when  I  began  to  douche  myself,  he  burst  into  tears, 
probably,  I  suppose,  because  he  remembered  what  a  dis- 
agreeable sensation  he  feels  himself  when  he  is  put  into  a 
bath.  The  first  time,  I  was  obliged  to  leave  off  the  per- 
formance and  put  him  out  of  the  room  away  from  this 
painful  sight.  The  second  time,  I  let  him  remain,  but  he 
cried  the  whole  time.  He  fetched  my  clothes  from  the 
chair,  and  held  up  my  shirt  for  me  to  put  on.  This  sym- 
pathetic sensibihty  touched  me  deeply." 

"•The  little  fellow  is  perfectly  miserable  if  either  his 
mother  or  I  say  to  him,   '  I  am   angry,  baby.'      If  any  one 


THE  SENTIMENTS.  8 1 

scolds  him,  it  is  the  displeased  expression  of  face  that  causes 
him  the  most  distress  and  sets  him  off  crying.  If  the 
scolding  is  not  of  a  very  decided  nature,  one  sees  hini 
hesitate,  his  mouth  is  uncertain  whether  to  laugh  or  cry, 
and  he  finally  decides  according  to  the  dominant  expression. 
If  he  cries  a  great  deal  at  being  scolded,  his  mother  can 
always  comfort  him  by  saying,  *  Mother  not  cross  now ;  be 
mother's  little  darhng,*  and  then  he  is  instantly  consoled 
and  holds  up  his  face  to  be  kissed." 

But  the  reverse  of  the  medal  is  always  there  also.  This 
same  child  at  the  same  age,  and  even  a  year  later,  was  the 
terror  of  all  cats.  During  a  visit  that  he  paid  at  my  house, 
I  went  one  day  suddenly  into  a  room  where  he  had  been 
left  alone  with  a  little  kitten.  On  seeing  me  he  cried  out, 
"  I'm  not  hurting  the  kitten."  This  was  true  at  the  moment 
at  which  he  spoke,  for  I  found  the  little  creature  squatting 
under  a  cupboard,  frightened  to  death. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

INTELLECTUAL    TENDENCIES. 

A  child's  curiosity,  like  its  intelligence,  is  at  the  outset 
entirely  egotistic  and  sensual,  but  it  is  gradually  and  in- 
stinctively elevated  by  a  kind  of  scientific  disinterestedness. 
It  is  in  the  first  instance  a  vivid  excitation  of  the  sensibility, 
and,  by  repercussion,  of  the  activity,  in  the  presence  or 
expectation  of  new  and  vivid  sensations. 

Fenelon  has  given  a  psychological,  if  not  an  exactly 
physiological  description,  of  this  interesting  organ  of  the 
infant  mind.  *'  The  substance  of  their  brains  is  soft,  but 
it  hardens  day  by  day.  As  for  their  minds,  they  know 
nothing,  all  is  new  to  them ;  owing  to  the  softness  of  the 
brain,  impressions  are  easily  traced  on  it,  and  the  novelty  of 
everything  causes  them  to  be  easily  excited  to  admiration 
and  curiosity.  This  moisture  and  softness  of  the  brain, 
combined  with  excessive  heat,  produce  in  it  easy  and  con- 
stant movement ;  hence  arises  the  restlessness  of  children, 
and  their  inability  to  keep  their  minds  fixed  on  one  object, 
any  more  than  their  bodies  in  one  place."  Fenelon  says 
elsewhere  :  "  The  curiosity  of  children  is  a  natural  tendency 
which  goes  in  the  van  of  instruction."  Let  us  say  rather, 
"  in  the  van  of  pleasure,"  and  the  definition  will  be  more 
exact. 

At  two  months  a  child  will  turn  its  eyes  and  ears  and 
stretch  out  its  hands  and  arms  towards  the  objects  which 
strike  its  senses.  At  three  months  it  seizes  the  objects 
brought  within  its  reach  and  shakes  them  about  to  amuse 
itself;  it  knows  that  its  hands  are  the  instruments  by  means 
of  which  it  can  procure  itself  impressions  and  produce  move- 
ments, and  it  exercises  them  in  touching  and  in  bringing 


INTELLECTUAL  TENDENCIES.  83 

near  to  its  eyes,  and  better  still  its  mouth,  as  many  objects 
as  it  can.  When  it  is  undressed  it  rubs  its  hands  all  over 
its  little  body,  down  its  stomach,  along  its  legs  and  feet;  and 
it  is  astonished  to  feel  so  many  different  things  which  are 
all  parts  of  itself.  When  it  is  seated  on  its  nurse's  lap  or 
on  a  cushion  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  one  of  its  favourite 
occupations  is  to  take  its  foot  in  both  hands  and  to  pull  it 
up  to  its  mouth.  The  mouth  is  the  central  point  of  all  its 
young  experience ;  it  is  here  that  every  fresh  bit  of  know- 
ledge is  brought  to  be  measured  and  determined.  Very 
often  too,  whether  from  the  need  of  testing  everything  by 
the  taste,  or  from  the  desire  to  sooth  the  smarting  of  its 
teeth  or  gums,  and  to  arrive  at  the  remedy  by  what  seems 
the  shortest  road,  children  will  try  to  take  hold  of  distant  ^ 
objects  with  their  mouths.  J 

Then  soon  comes  the  stage  at  which  everything  within  J 
reach  becomes  the  subject  of  continual  study  and  desire,  '^ 
and  the  child's  curiosity  flits  from  one  thing  to  another 
and  backwards  and  forwards  to  the  same  things  over  and 
over  again,  changing  as  rapidly  as  does  the  pleasure  which 
he  feels  in  holding,  moving,  looking  at,  and  listening  to 
different  things.  Woe  henceforth  to  you  parents  who  have 
not  kept  your  children  in  check,  but  have  made  yourselves 
the  ready  slaves  to  their  caprices.  By  a  graceful  wave  of 
the  baby  hand,  or  by  resolute  and  imperious  screams,  they 
will  now  insist  on  your  bringing  or  giving  them  whatever 
strikes  their  fancy  j  your  watch,  your  eye-glass,  your  arm- 
chair, a  picture,  a  porcelain  vase,  a  lamp,  possibly  even  a 
gas-burner  in  the  street,  "  everything,"  as  Rousseau  says, 
"including  the  moon." 

Towards  the  age  of  a  year,  when  a  child  begins  to  be  v 
able  to  walk,  its  sphere  of  personal  investigations  becomes 
rapidly  enlarged,  and  the  additional  faculty  of  speech  ^ 
supplies  its  curiosities  and  wishes  with  the  means  of  endless 
variety,  and  of  enforcing  attention.  A  hundred  times  an 
hour,  provided  there  is  some  one  to  listen  to  him,  his  little 
voice  will  be  heard,  expressing  some  wish  or  asking  some 
question.  All  the  observations  which  he  formerly  made 
with  his  eyes,  are  now  made  with  his  hands  and  mouth; 


84      THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

he  darts  about  hither  and  thither,  he  crawls  or  toddles  from 
one  thing  to  another  ;  he  opens  things,  breaks  them,  knocks 
them  about,  mixes  them  together.  He  pours  his  broth  into 
his  grandfather's  watch,  puts  the  gold  fish  into  the  doll's 
bed,  and  the  doll  into  the  water  of  the  fish-globe ;  in  short, 
he  commits  the  whole  series  of  incongruities  which  artists 
of  late  have  been  ingeniously  striving  to  reproduce ;  and  all 
this  is  done,  not  so  much  from  a  desire  to  know  what  the 
things  are  and  what  can  be  done  with  them,  as  from  the 
need  of  fresh  sensations. 

A  little  later,  these  mischievous  tendencies  become  still 
more  numerous.  The  child  seems  to  be  everywhere  at 
once — in  the  kitchen,  in  the  garden,  in  the  drawing-room, 
with  eyes  and  ears  wide  awake,  hearing  and  seeing  every- 
thing without  seeming  to  do  so,  asking  endless  questions, 
often  very  embarrassing  ones,  and  storing  up  in  his  memory 
all  the  most  striking  details,  to  be  brought  out  suddenly  for 
the  entertainment  of  visitors.  This  craving  of  young  children 
for  information  is  an  emotional  and  intellectual  absorbing 
power,  as  dominant  as  the  appetite  of  nutrition,  and  equally 
needing  to  be  watched  over  and  regulated. 

We  should  strangely  exaggerate  the  hereditary  influence 
of  scientific  tendencies  in  man,  if  we  transferred  it  from  the 
social  group  to  the  individual :  all  that  belongs  to  the  indi- 
vidual is  a  greater  aptitude  at  perceiving  and  at  combining 
his  perceptions  so  as  to  form  systematic  and  co-ordinated 
conceptions ;  but  the  instinct  for  abstract  truth,  the  neces- 
sity of  finding  out  the  truth  for  its  own  sake,  is  not  trans- 
mitted, it  must  be  inculcated.  If  then  there  are  no  questions 
asked  by  children  to  which  a  true  answer  should  not  be 
given,  we  may  comfort  ourselves  with  the  thought  that  little 
children  are  not  very  critical,  and  that  a  very  vague  answer, 
if  necessary,  will  satisfy  them.  For  instance,  a  little  girl 
asked  her  mother  why  there  was  water  in  the  river.  Her 
mother  answered,  "  Because  there  must  be  water  somewhere 
but  not  everywhere."  Another  child  asked  why  beans 
grew  in  the  earth.  Her  mother  answered,  "Do  you  not 
grow  every  day  ?  and  kittens,  don't  they  grow  ?  All  animals 
get  bigger,  and  little  ones  become  great  ores ;  and  the 


INTELLECTUAL   TENDENCIES.  85 

plants  do  just  the  same."  Another  child  asked  why  water 
was  not  wine.  His  father  asked  him  in  answer,  "  Is  a  dog 
a  cat?  Wine  is  wine,  and  water  is  water."  All  these 
answers  are  not  partly  true,  they  are  absolutely  true,  and 
quite  sufficient  for  children  of  this  age. 

Children  do  not  trouble  themselves  about  the  invisible ; 
they  feel,  indeed,  an  instinctive  repulsion  for  what  is  mys- 
terious. It  may  be  said  of  them,  as  Spencer  has  well  said 
of  primitive  man  :  "  He  accepts  what  he  sees,  as  animals 
do ;  he  adapts  himself  spontaneously  to  the  world  which 
surrounds  him ;  astonishment  is  beyond  him."  If,  then,  it 
is  not  possible  to  attribute  the  birth  of  religions  to  those 
two  tendencies  said  to  be  innate  in  man, — automorphism, 
which  causes  him  to  place  a  will  similar  to  his  own  behind 
natural  phenomena,  and  wonder,  which  seizes  him  in  the 
presence  of  certain  of  these  phenomena  and  impels  him  to 
invent  mysterious  and  supernatural  explanations  for  them, — 
we  may  boldly  assert  that  the  sense  of  religion  exists  no 
more  in  the  intelligence  of  a  little  child,  than  does  the 
supernatural  in  nature. 

Children,  I  take  it,  occupy  their  minds  very  little  with 
those  conceptions  of  the  invisible,  of  the  infinite,  and  of 
finality,  which  are  disputed  about  in  philosophic  circles. 
Their  reverence  and  their  love  attaches  itself  to  the  human 
beings  who  are  kind  to  them,  but  to  nothing  which  is  in- 
visible or  distinct  from  their  species.  Their  instinct  of 
finality  is  wholly  objective  and  utilitarian.  They  ask  what 
such  a  thing  is  called,  in  order  to  know  in  what  it  is  either 
good  or  bad  ;  and  also — but  this  chiefly  because  they  have 
been  taught  to  ask  it — where  it  comes  from,  who  has  made 
it  thus,  who  has  put  it  there  ;  i.e.,  what  is  there  to  like  or 
fear  about  any  particular  thing?  There  is  nothing  meta- 
physical in  all  this  ;  they  are  only  inquiries  founded  on 
very  concrete  analogies  and  experiences.  The  mystery  of 
their  own  existence  and  of  the  existence  of  the  world  does 
not  interest  or  preoccupy  young  children,  unless  they  have 
had  their  attention  directed  to  these  subjects ;  and,  in  our 
opinion,  parents  are  very  much  mistaken  in  thinking  it  their 
duty  to  instruct  their  little  ones  in  such  things,  which  have 


86      THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

no  real  interest  for  them — as  who  made  them,  who  created 
the  world,  what  is  the  soul,  what  is  its  present  and  future 
destiny,  and  so  forth. 
/^^  So  great,  moreover,  is  the  confidence  and  credulity  of 
}  children,  that  they  will  accept, — not  always  though  without 
a  little  kicking, — almost  any  beliefs  that  you  try  to  impose 
on  them.  If  you  want  to  persuade  your  child  that  he  was 
born  under  a  cabbage,  that  Hop-o'-my-Thumb  had  seven- 
leagued-  boots,  that  the  sky  is  peopled  with  angels,  that 
under  the  earth  there  are  howling  demons,  that  garrets  and 
chimneys  are  full  of  ghosts,  you  have  only  to  look  as  if  you 
beUeved  all  this  seriously  yourself,  and  they  will  be  con- 
vinced at  once. 

II. 

VERACITY. 

Montaigne  has  said  that  the  falsehood  and  stubbornness  of 
a  child  grows  with  its  growth ;  and  with  regard  to  the  first  of 
these  faults,  of  which  I  shall  treat  in  this  chapter,  he  has 
spoken  very  truly.  Like  all  hereditary  vices,  the  habit  of 
lying  is  developed  more  or  less  in  each  child,  according  as 
''  internal  or  external  circumstances,  education,  example,  the 
influence  of  such  and  such  other  tendencies  or  habits 
favour  or  counteract  its  growth.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is 
an  absolutely  subordinate  vice,  and  we  must  search  out  its 

^  primary  source  and  its  accidental  derivations  if  we  wish  to' 
apply  a  timely  and  efficacious  remedy  to  the  evil. 

A  child's  truthfulness  is  in  proportion  to  its  credulity, 
although  there  is  no  direct  relationship  between  these  two 
qualities.  Nevertheless,  at  a  very  early  age  the  illusions 
from  which  no  one  of  its  senses  is  exempt,  begin  to  startle 

?  its  early  confidence,  though  without  at  once  shattering  it. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  many  things  astonish  children  on 
account  of  the  distinction  they  are  obliged  to  make  be- 
tween them  and  other  things  which  resemble  them.  I 
have  seen  a  child  of  five  months  old  quite  perplexed  and 
bewildered  at  discovering  that  what  she  had  taken  for  one 
and  the  same  cat  was  two  cats  of  the  same  colour.  Very 
young  children  are  frequently  surprised  and   irritated  by 


VERACITY.  87 

mistakes  which  they  have  fallen  into.  But  they  are  much 
more  annoyed  and  irritated  by  deceptions  practised  on 
them  by  others. 

If  you  give  a  child  of  seven  or  eight  months  a  piece 
of  bread  instead  of  a  cake  which  he  had  seen  and  coveted, 
he  will  thrust  aside  the  mocking  gift  with  a  gesture  of  dis- 
gust ;  and  the  twitchings  of  his  mouth,  his  tearful  eyes,  and 
puckered  forehead  threaten  an  imminent  outburst.  Who  that 
has  had  to  do  with  children  is  not  familiar  with  the  terrible 
scenes  that  occur  when  a  change  of  nurses,  or  the  necessity 
of  weaning  the  child,  obliges  those  around  it  to  resort  to  all 
sorts  of  little  tricks  and  manoeuvres.  Happy  the  parents 
who  can  flatter  themselves  that  neither  they  nor  any  of 
their  household  have  ever  deceived  a  child  unnecessarily, 
and  without  legitimate  cause. 

Thus  then  we  see  that  children  from  twelve  to  fifteen 
months  old  have  already  discovered  that  all  that  grown-up 
people  do  or  say  is  not  always  truth.  Very  soon,  more- 
over, if  the  phenomenon  of  falsehood  has  not  already  come 
under  their  notice,  the  cunning  which  is  innate  in  every 
animal  organization  will  lead  them  to  it  by  the  practice  of 
useful  dissimulations.  The  story  of  the  piece  of  sugar 
stolen  by  the  young  Tiedemann  or  the  young  Darwin,  is  the 
story  of  all  children  at  the  same  age.^  They  hide  them- 
selves instinctively  to  do  what  they  know  is  forbidden,  as  if 
in  play,  just  as  they  will  say  what  is  not  the  case  by  way  of 
fun.  A  child  of  two  years  who  says  to  me  :  "I  have  just 
seen  a  butterfly  as  large  a  cat,  as  large  as  the  house,"  is 
telling  for  fun  what  he  knows  to  be  a  falsehood.  It  is  the 
same,  too,  when  he  crouches  behind  a  door  saying,  "  Victor 
isn't  here."  But  of  these  two  untruths  the  one  is  spon- 
taneous, the  other  is  imitated ;  the  playful  imagination  of 
children,  and  their  tendency  to  imitate  the  games  of  others, 
are  two  sorts  of  inducements  to  them  to  counterfeit  the 
truth.  But  in  whatever  way  they  do  it,  whether  by  gesture, 
mien,  or  speech,  it  is  more  for  their  own  edification  than 

*  See  my  brochure  :   Thierri  Tiedemaiin  et  la  Science  de  I' Enfant, 
etc.,  p.  36. 


88      THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

for  that  of  others.  They  enjoy  the  surprise  or  the  fright 
which  they  think  they  have  caused  their  nurse  by  suddenly 
popping  their  head  out  from  behind  their  table-napkin,  or 
by  coming  out  of  a  hiding-place  where  they  thought  them- 
selves invisible.  "  How  I  frightened  you  ! "  said  a  little 
girl  of  twenty  months  to  her  uncle,  who  had  pretended  to 
be  frightened  at  hearing  her  imitate  the  barking  of  a  dog 
behind  the  door.  We  see  also  from  example  that  the 
gratification  of  the  feeling  of  amour-propre  has  something  to 
do  with  this  tendency  of  deceiving  for  fun. 

Children  will  also  turn  a  thing  into  a  joke  in  the  same 
sort  of  way,  to  avoid  being  scolded,  or  to  appear  as  if  they 
did  not  deserve  a  scolding.  "  Naughty,  naughty,"  said  a 
little  child  of  two-and-a-half  to  its  mother  who  was  putting 
it  into  a  bath  against  its  will.  "What !"  said  the  mother, 
"  is  that  how  you  speak  to  me  ?  "  "  No,  no,  it's  not  you  \ 
it's  the  water  that's  naughty,"  was  the  prompt  reply.  In 
this  case  the  falsehood,  though  suggested  by  the  mother's 

^  question,  had  more  the  nature  of  spontaneity  than  imitation. 
.>  All  egotistical  feehngs  are  conducive  to  lying.  A  child 
who  has  just  had  some  good  thing  to  eat,  will  say  that  he 
has  not  had  it,  or  that  he  has  had  very  little,  in  order  that 
he  may  have  some  more  given  him.  Another  child  has 
burnt  his  mouth,  say,  in  drinking  his  broth,  and  begins  to 
cry.  His  nurse  tries  to  comfort  him,  saying,  "  Poor  baby, 
it  hurts  very  much,  doesn't  it,"  etc.,  etc.  All  these  words 
of  comfort  the  child  repels  with  movements  of  the  arms 
and  head,  accompanied  by  unintelligible  sounds,  till  at  last 
it  says  more  distinctly  :  "No,  no;  not  hurt." 

In  this  case  the  imagination,  over-excited  by  pain  and 
anger,  suggests  to  the  child  the  idea  of  denying  the  reality, 
because  he  does  not  wish  to  believe  it.  A  little  girl,  three 
years  old,  seeing  her  mother  fondling  her  brother  for  several 
minutes  without  taking  any  notice  of  her,  said  all  of  a 
sudden  :  *'  You  don't  know,  mamma,  how  naughty  Henry 
has  been  to  the  parrot."  This  was  a  falsehood  suggested  by 
jealousy. 

>  Laziness  will  also  lead  children  to  tell  untruths.  A  child 
is  told  to  go  and  look  for  a  stool  in  the  next  room;  he 


IMITATION.  89 

returns  without  having  looked  for  it,  and  says  it  is  not 
there.  Or  he  is  given  a  book  to  take  to  his  uncle  who  is 
sitting  out  in  the  garden.  He  reluctantly  leaves  his  play- 
things, hesitates  before  starting,  walks  as  slowly  as  he  can, 
looking  round  several  times  to  see  that  no  one  is  looking  at 
him,  and  when  out  of  sight,  he  drops  the  book  into  a  bed 
of  flowers,  and  runs  back  to  his  toys,  as  if  he  had  executed 
the  commission.  Laziness,  disobedience,  and  hypocrisy  are 
all  combined  in  this  action. 

The  fear  of  being  scolded,  or  punished,  or  of  being 
deprived  of  an  expected  treat,  will  also  often  lead  a  child 
into  falsehood  5  but  this  is  generally  at  an  older  age — after 
they  are  three  or  four  years  old.  Very  often,  moreover,  it 
is  our  manner  of  trying  to  elicit  the  truth  which  leads  to 
defiance,  dissimulation,  and  falsehood.  Did  you  do  that  ? 
Who  has  done  this?  Questions  like  these,  asked  in  a 
threatening  voice  and  with  severe  looks,  provoke  an  answer 
which  may  save  from  punishment,  or  at  any  rate  may  put  it 
off ;  and  so  the  child  tells  a  lie. 

Truthfulness  is  so  essential  a  virtue,  and  the  habit  of 
lying  is  so  dangerous,  and  one  which  in  so  many  ways 
affects  all  the  details  of  human  life,  that  we  cannot  be  too 
much  on  our  guard  against  the  first  symptoms  of  prevari- 
cation. It  is  a  matter  in  which  preservatives  are  more 
valuable  than  correctives.  It  is  a  common-place  truth,  but 
one  too  much  forgotten  in  actual  practice,  that,  with  justice 
and  kindness,  we  can  make  almost  anything  we  like  of 
children.  They  will  be  frank  and  open,  if  they  are  en- 
fcouraged  to  be  confiding;  they  will  not  seek  to  make 
\excuses  for  their  faults,  if  they  know  that  it  grieves  their 
parents,  and  that  this  will  be  the  worst  consequence  ot 
their  naughtiness.  And  lastly,  we  should  be  specially  care- 
ful never  to  scold  them  for  unintentional  faults. 

III. 

IMITATION. 

During  the  first  months  of  life,  the  imitative  tendency  is  as 
little  developed  as  the  power  of  observation;  it  exhibits 


90      THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

itself,  however,  in  various  little  efforts.  Darwin  thinks  that 
he  noticed  it  in  his  son  at  four  months  old,  when  the  child 
appearad  to  imitate  certain  sounds ;  but  he  only  determined 
it  positively  at  the  age  of  six  months.  Tiedemann  has 
noted  the  following  phenomenon  in  his  son  at  four  months, 
and  he  thinks  it  a  clear  indication  of  association  of  ideas : 
"  If  he  sees  any  one  drinking,  he  makes  a  movement  with 
his  mouth  as  if  he  were  tasting  something."  In  this  and 
analogous  actions  must  we  not  recognise,  besides  the 
instinct  of  finality  which  makes  the  child  understand  the 
object  of  buccal  movements,  the  result  of  that  instinctive 
sympathy  of  movement  which,  in  beings  provided  with  the 
same  organisation,  makes  like  call  forth  like,  and,  given  the 
impulsive  character  of  childhood,  results  naturally  in  imita- 
tion? 

M.  Egger,!  while  agreeing  that  the  faculty  of  imitation  is 
very  precocious  in  children,  does  not  note  it  with  certainty 
until  the  age  of  nine  months,  and  then  in  the  following 
actions  : — i.  Alternately  hiding  and  showing  themselves,  as 
a  game.  2.  Throwing  a  ball,  after  having  seen  some  one 
else  throw  one.  3.  Trying  to  blow  out  a  candle.  4.  Try- 
ing to  sneeze,  in  imitation  of  some  one  else.  5.  Trying  to 
strike  the  keys  of  a  piano.  M.  Egger  does  not  notice  at 
the  same  period  "  any  conscious  effort  at  imitating  sounds." 
He  considers,  moreTbver,  that  the  development,  or  rather 
the  appearance  of  this  faculty  of  imitation,  is  simultaneous 
/  jy  I  with  the  first  awakening  of  intelligence.  For  my  part, 
\j\l  admitting  as  I  do  the  co-existence  in  children  at  a  very 
v[  early  age  of  automatic  movements  and  conscious  and  in- 
telligent movements,  I  believe  that  the  imitative  function  is 
4^1so  very  early  connected  with  these  two  sorts  of  movements. 
Owing  to  the  nervous  connection  of  the  auditory  and 
phonetic  apparatus,  young  birds  attempt  mechanically  to 
produce  the  notes  they  hear  sung  by  adult  birds ;  talking 
birds  try  mechanically  to  reproduce  the  words  and  the 
sounds  which  strike  on  their  ears ;  and  mechanically  also, 

^  Le  Devdoppemen<  de  P Intelligence  et  du  Langage  chez  les  Enfants, 
pp.  10,  etc. 


IMITATION.  91 

as  it  seems  to  me,  children,  as  soon  as  the  second  month, 
make  attempts  at  sounds,  in  order  to  answer  people  speak- 
ing to  them,  or  to  imitate  the  sounds,  of  the  piano.  Like- 
wise at  the  age  of  three  months,  having  learnt  mechanically 
to  follow  the  direction  of  a  look  or  a  movement,  they  will 
fix  their  eyes  on  objects  which  they  see  other  people  look- 
ing at,  turning  their  head  also  sometimes  where  they  see 
other  persons  turn  theirs^  and  all  this,  though  in  a  very 
limited  measure,  with  the  intention  of  imitating.  The  same 
applies  to  all  young  animals. 

As  the  simultaneous  development  of  the  faculty  of  ob- 
servation and  of  the  play  of  the  organs  proceeds,  the  sphere 
of  children's  imitations  is  proportionately  enlarged  :  for 
instance,  their  arms  at  first  attempted  a  variety  of  instinctive 
movements  towards  objects  which  attracted  their  attention 
or  excited  their  desires ;  the  desire  to  imitate  analogous 
gestures,  which  he  sees  others  make  with  success,  excites 
him  to  renew  his  efforts,  and  indicates  to  him  the  way  to 
succeed  in  his  turn  :  at  the  age  of  four  months  he  stretches 
out  his  arms  with  more  assurance  to  the  people  around  him  \ 
he  is  more  successful  in  smiling,  he  even  attempts  to  laugh 
— and  all  this  improvement  is  due  to  the  attempts  at 
imitation  which  have  helped  and  strengthened  the  first 
spontaneous  efforts.  At  six  months  children  respond  with 
little  starts  and  jumps  to  any  attempt  to  amuse  them;  they 
stroke  their  mother's  face  with  their  little  hands,  they  babble 
inarticulate  expressions  of  admiration  at  any  object  which 
they  are  made  to  contemplate.  A  little  later  still,  their 
m  m  in  and///,  more  or  less  spontaneous,  becomes  the 
mamma  mamma,  and  papa  papa,  which  have  been  repeated 
to  them  a  hundred  times  a  day.  And  finally  their  first  efforts 
at  walking,  partly  due  to  their  own  initiative,  and  partly  to 
the  guidance  and  help  of  nurses  and  mothers,  will  be 
brought  gradually  to  perfection  through  their  anxiety  to  imi- 
tate the  grown-up  people  whose  walking  they  watch  so 
attentively. 

The  older  a  child  grows,  the  more  he  will  be  helped  by 
example  in  guiding  the  operations  of  his  senses,  as  well  as 
those  of  his  moral  and  intellectual  faculties.     For  instance, 


g9     THE   FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

as  has  been  said  above,  *'We  feel  the  desire  to  eat  arising, 
when  we  see  others  eating,"  and  the  practical  lesson  to  be 
learnt  from  this  is,  not  to  give  the  stimulus  of  example  to 
the  instinct  of  greediness  innate  in  children.  The  same 
may  be  said  of  all  actions  which  have  more  or  less  connec- 
tion with  sympathy,  sociability,  or  with  anti-social  tendencies. 
A  little  girl  only  fifteen  months  old  had  already  begun  to 
imitate  her  father's  frowns  and  irritable  ways  and  angry 
voice ;  and  very  soon  after  she  learnt  to  use  his  expressions 
of  anger  and  impatience.  When  three  years  old,  this  same 
little  girl  gravely  said  to  a  visitor  at  the  house  with  whom 
she  had  begun  to  argue  quite  in  her  father's  style  :  "  Do  be 
quiet,  will  you,  you  never  let  me  finish  my  sentences  ! " 
Thus  we  see  that  the  contagious  effect  of  example  operates 
very  early  on  the  habits  and  morals  of  children.  They 
copy  everything,  ^vil  as  well  as  good,  and  are  very  quick 
to  adopt  the  opinions  and  ways  of  acting  of  their  eiders. 
We  must  not,  however,  be  in  too  great  a  hurry  to  judge 
them  from  their  passing  estimate  of  particular  actions,  or 
from  their  imitation  of  them,  which  is  purely  accidental. 
It  is  not  so  much  habits  as  tendencies  to  habits  which 
they  exhibit,  and  these  are  often  lost  as  soon  as  learnt,  as 
well  as  the  manners  or  language  which  they  have  acquired 
in  the  same  fashion.  Moreover,  there  is  in  every  child  a 
distinct  individuality,  the  result  of  heredity  and  habits, 
which  can  always  be  discovered  if  we  will  but  look  for  it, 
underneath  all  its  plagiarisms. 

The  spontaneity  natural  to  early  infancy  is  sometimes  the 
I  means  of  saving  children  from  the  inconvenient  results 
of  their  extreme  organic  and  intellectual  plasticity.  But  it 
would  be  dangerous  to  count  too  much  on  this  spon- 
taneity. The  respect  due  to  the  individuality  of  a  human 
being  makes  it  incumbent  on  us  to  be  very  careful  as  to 
the  examples  a  child  sees  around  him,  especially  from  the 
moral  point  of  view.  The  ideal  in  education  would  be,  to 
allow  each  child  scope  for  his  own  particular  bent,  while 
at  the  same  time  setting  our  example  before  him.  Locke 
understood  the  necessity  of  respecting  the  natural  bias  in 
each  child,  and  could  not  endure  the  artificial  product  which 


SPONTANEITY.  05 

is  the  invariable  result  of  constraint  and  affectation.  He 
specially  deplores  this  fault  in  what  concerns  manners  and 
behaviour  in  society.  "  Affectation,"  he  says,  "  is  a  clumsy 
and  forced  imitation  of  what  should  be  easy  and  natural, 
and  is  devoid  of  the  charm  which  always  accompanies 
what  is  really  natural,  because  of  the  opposition  which  it 
causes  between  the  outward  action  and  the  inward  motions 
of  the  spirit.  .  .  ."  Away  with  politeness  and  agreeable  ; 
manners  if  they  endanger  the  frankness  and  sincerity  of  the 
cliild.  "  Mamma,"  said  a  child  of  four  years  old,  "  are  you 
not  going  to  tell  Madame  X.  to  go  away  ?  She  has  been 
here  a  long  time."  I  greatly  prefer,  even  in  a  child  of  four 
years  old,  this  frank  and  innocent  rudeness,  to  formulas  of 
politeness  repeated  by  rote  but  not  felt. 

There  is  another  reason,  well  worth   our  consideration, 
which  should  deter  us  from  stifling  a  child's  natural  initia- 
tive by  the  undue  influence  of  our  example  and  activity.    We 
see  in  animals  a  sort  of  individuality  of  action  which  does 
not  belong  to  man ;  the  development  of  their  powers  and 
skill  affords  them  the  greatest  possible  amount  of  enjoyment 
when  they  are  young,  and  later  on  inspires  them  with  a  kind 
of  proud  confidence.     And  the  same   thing   may   be   ob-      j 
served   in  little  children.     Tiedemann  says  of  his  son  at 
fifteen  months  old, — and  the  observation  might  have  been 
made  earHer,-^^'  When  he  has  done  something  of  his  own 
accord,  given  a  certain   impetus  to  one   of  his   toys,   for 
instance,  he  shows  evident  delight,  and  takes  pleasure  in 
reiterating..„the  action."     And  he  goes  on  to  remark  with     . 
equal  truth  :  ''Children  in  general  like  to  do  by  themselves     ■, 
what  they  have  hitherto  been  obliged  to  let  others  do  for     " 
them.     They  like  to  feed  themselves  with  their  own  hands,  to 
wash  and  dress  themselves,  etc.,  etc.     This  liberty  of  action, 
even  in  imitated  actions,  is  ona  of  the  conditions  of  a  child's  ^ 
happiness ;  besides  that,  it  has  the  effect  of  exercising  and 
developing  all  its  faculties.     Example  is  the  first  tutor,  and  1 
Liberty  the  second  in  the  order  of  evolution ;  but  the  second  \ 
is  the  better  one,  for  it  has  Inclination  for  its  assistant." 


94      THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

IV. 
CREDULITY. 

The  instinct  of  credulity  is  at  first  nothing  else  than  the 
instinct  of  belief.  It  is  impossible  for  us  to  have  a  sensation, 
or  a  perception,  or  in  fact  a  clear  idea  of  any  sort  without 
referring  it  at  first  to  some  object  which  is  present,  and  later 
on  to  something  which  has  been  or  might  be  present — in 
short,  to  some  real  and  tangible  cause.  This  is  why,  in  the 
case  of  children  or  young  animals  without  discernment, 
and,  up  to  a  certain  point,  in  the  half-civilized  adults  whom 
we  call  savages,  belief,  or,  if  we  prefer  it,  credulity,  is  con- 
founded with  the  desire  to  see  such  and  such  objects  either 
present  to  the  sight  or  fixed  in  the  memory,  and  to  see  them 
with  such  and  such  attributes,  agreeable  or  disagreeable. 
The  child  begins  with  a  lively  faith  in  the  truth  of  appear- 
ances ;  but  day  by  day  he  goes  through  experiences  which 
teach  him  to  mistrust,  not  appearances  in  general,  but  certain 
sorts  of  appearances.  In  this  respect  his  faculty  of  discrimi- 
nation and  generalization  makes  marked  progress  during  the 
important  period  from  the  third  to  the  sixth  month. 

A  little  child  of  seven  months  who  is  on  a  visit  to  me,  is 
seated  on  the  table  before  me  as  I  am  writing.  I  place  a 
brush  within  his  reach  with  the  bristles  turned  towards  him : 
he  presses  both  his  hands  upon  it,  but  soon  lifts  them  up 
again — very  slowly,  and  looking  very  grave.  His  attention 
is  then  attracted  in  another  direction.  Some  minutes  after, 
I  try  the  experiment  over  again,  and  this  time  I  notice  a 
little  more  rapidity  in  the  child's  recoiling  movements.  I 
repeat  it  five  times  more  at  intervals,  and  varying  the  cir- 
cumstances ;  but  I  do  not  remark  any  new  facts.  A  quarter 
of  an  hour  having  passed  after  the  seventh  experiment,  I 
again  place  Georgie  in  a  position  to  touch  the  brush.  This 
time  he  draws  back  quickly  aWfirst  sight,  and  without  trying 
to  touch  it.  Having  then  amused  him  and  distracted  his 
attention  for  a  short  space  of  time,  I  repeated  the  experi- 
ment once  more  for  the  last  time.  The  child  looked  fixedly 
at  the  brush  without  stirring,  then,  after  a  few  minutes  of 
hesitation  or  reflection,  he  threw  himself  back  and  kissed  his 
grandmother. 


CREDULITY.  95        ( 

Children  make  experiments  of  this  kind  for  themselves 
every  day ;  and  though  they  generalize  them  very  little,  they 
help  them, — by  dint  of  repetition,  and  thanks  to  analogy  and 
association  of  ideas, — to  know  how  to  act  advantageously 
with  regard  to  new  objects  which  come  before  them.  But  the 
mistakes  which  they  make  so  frequently  they  do  not  realize 
as  such;  they  regard  them  merely  as  isolated  experiences; 
and  thus  in  most  cases  the  little  creatures,  irreflective  rather 
than  inexperienced,  judge  things  from  their  appearance. 

A  fortiori  then  will  children  trust  blindly  in  the  words 
of  others.  "  The  sounds  which  a  child  has  become  accus- 
tomed to  recognise  and  to  attach  to  certain  objects  while 
learning  to  speak,  will  naturally  awaken  in  him  the  thought 
of  the  same  objects  when  heard  again  :  until  these  associa- 
tions have  been  disturbed  by  the  experience  of  error  and 
falsehood,  they  reproduce  themselves  naturally  and  in- 
faUibly ;  the  same  words  recall  always  the  same  ideas.  If 
every  time  that  one  says  to  a  child,  '  I  have  a  cake  for  you,' 
one  really  gives  him  a  cake,  it  is  impossible  but  that  the 
same  words,  spoken  another  time,  should  not  awaken  in  him 
the  same  idea  and  expectation  ;  but  if  once,  instead  of  the 
promised  cake,  he  is  given  a  bit  of  wood,  he  finds  himself 
suddenly  confronted  with  a  falsehood  that  nothing  could 
have  made  him  foresee,  and  he  begins  to  cry.  We  can 
plainly  see  that  the  instinct  of  veracity  is  not  needed  to 
explain  these  facts."  I  am  of  the  same  opinion  as  M. 
Janet  :  it  is  not  necessary  to  have  recourse,  as  Reid  has 
done,  to  the  instinct  of  truth,  to  explain  the  natural  belief 
of  human  beings  in  the  testimony  of  other  human  beings. 
This  fact  has  its  principle  in  the  natural  belief  of  a  child  in 
the  sense  expressed  by  words,  that  is  in  the  objectivity  of 
the  ideas  that  words  express.  Even  at  the  age  of  two  or 
three,  when  the  child  has  made  experience  of  error  and 
falsehood,  he  will  tell  untruths  himself,  without  ceasing  to  ] 
believe  in  the  veracity  of  others.  He  only  mistrusts  cer- 
tain people,  and  those  never  entirely.  Untruthful  and  credu- 
lous, these  are  two  qualities  which  go  very  frequently 
together  in  childhood,  and  also,  I  think,  in  adult  life ;  it  is 
easier  to  tell  lies  than  to  believe  that  others  are  doing  so. 


96      THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

Children,  then,  accept  unhesitatingly  as  true  all  the  ideas 
which  pass  through  their  brains,  and  especially  those  which 
gain  confirmation  and  precision  from  the  words  or  looks  of 
grown-up  persons.  The  tales  of  the  latter,  whatever  they 
may  be,  instantly  become  the  child's  creeds.  This  is  what 
constitutes  the  charm,  and  also,  in  my  mind,  the  danger,  of 
all  the  improbable  stories  which  are  related  to  children,  be- 
fore even  they  thoroughly  understand  the  language  in  which 
they  are  told. 

At  the  age  of  twenty  months  a  child  is  not  keen  to  hear 
stories  and  fables,  which  he  would  not  understand ;  but  he 
delights  in  recounting  his  own  little  experiences.  A  little 
girl  of  this  age,  whenever  her  mother  took  her  out  with 
her,  used  to  relate  to  her  father  in  the  evening  all  that 
she  and  her  mother  had  seen  and  done :  "  We  went  out 
under  the  large  trees  of  the  Luxembourg;  the  dog  was 
with  us ;  he  kept  running  round  the  perambulator  of  a 
little  gft-l,  and  every  now  and  then  he  came  up  and  licked 
her  hands  and  face.  But  the  dog  was  very  naughty,  he 
ate  the  little  girl's  cake.  Mamma  scolded  the  dog  well,  and 
drove  him  away  with  her  blue  umbrella,  which  made  Mary 
laugh  just  when  she  was  beginning  to  cry.  Then  a  little 
boy  named  Joseph  came  and  sat  on  a  bench  by  Mary.  He 
was  bigger  than  little  Mary,  but  he  was  very  poHte,  and 
he  is  very  fond  of  the  little  girl.  He  let  her  take  his 
balloon  and  he  did  not  hurt  her  doll ;  then  he  and  Mary 
jumped  about  together,  but  the  little  boy  tumbled  down  and 
made  a  bump  on  his  forehead.  He  cried  very  much,  and 
the  little  girl  cried  too  because  he  was  hurt.  And  then  we 
walked  a  long,  long  way  to  the  furthest  bench  with 
Madame  X.,  who  loves  baby  very  much.  Madame  X.  said  to 
baby  :  '  When  are  you  coming  to  see  me  ?  There  are  some 
beautiful  apricots  for  yoii  in  the  garden,  and  the  birds  in  the 
aviary  are  always  very  pretty  and  very  happy :  they  often 
ask  where  little  Mary  is,  saying,  Coui^  coui,  coui,^  etc.,  etc." 
And  during  this  recital,  often  interrupted  by  the  kisses  and 
pettings  of  her  mother,  or  by  bursts  of  laughter  and  short 
remarks  from  her  father,  the  little  girl,  all  eyes  and  ears, 
enacted  all  the  various  emotions  which  the  events  called 


CREDULITY.  9/ 

forth,  gesticulating  with  arms,  feet,  and  head,  and  mimicking 
the  cries  of  the  animals  she  was  talking  about.  She  would 
become  half  lost  in  the  narrative,  or  rather  in  dramatizing 
it ;  and  the  habit  of  recounting  these  true  stories  prepared 
her  for  following  the  fictitious  ones  which  her  mother  in- 
vented for  her,  suiting  them  gradually  to  the  progressive 
development  of  her  intelligence.  When  two  years  old,  she 
could  not  exist  without  these  exciting  little  tales  ;  and  she 
used  to  say  several  times  a  day  to  her  mother,  "  Mamma,  tale 
about  dood  ittle  dal ;  mamma,  tale  about  ittle  dal." 

These  little  dramas  and  comedies,  of  which  children  are 
so  fond,  are  taken  by  them  quite  seriously,  even  when  they 
get  to  the  age  of  three.  When  once  they  know  them  by 
heart  (a  particularly  happy  expression  in  their  case  !),  if  you 
change  a  single  word,  the  charm  is  gone,  and  the  attention 
with  it.  A  child  who  went  on  a  visit  to  some  relations  when 
only  two-and-a-half  years  old,  was  particularly  fascinated  by 
the  tales  which  his  youngest  aunt  used  to  tell  him.  He 
only  liked  to  hear  them  from  her,  and  he  wanted  them  over 
and  over  again  every  day.  Often  after  late  dinner,  if  he  did 
not  fall  asleep  in  the  middle  of  dessert,  he  would  settle  him- 
self comfortably  on  her  lap,  leaning  his  head  on  her  shoulder, 
and  remain  perfecdy  still  waiting  for  her  to  begin.  And  then 
nothing  could  make  him  stir;  no  noise  or  interruption 
would  disturb  his  immovable  attention.  But  we  could  tell 
by  the  expression  of  his  face,  by  his  sudden  changes  of 
colour,  and  by  the  movements  of  his  eyes  and  the  twitch- 
ings  of  his  lips,  what  a  series  of  profound  emotions  was  suc- 
cessively agitating  his  little  mind. 

One  evening  his  aunts  were  out,  and  he  was  left  alone 
with  the  eldest  of  his  cousins,  a  young  man.  He  soon 
began  to  find  himself  bored.  His  cousin  proposed  to  tell 
him  the  story  which  he  liked  best,  the  one  about  a  young 
bird,  which,  having  left  its  nest,  although  its  mother  had  for- 
bidden it  to  do  so,  flew  to  the  top  of  a  chimney,  fell  down 
the  flue  into  the  fire,  and  died  a  victim  to  his  disobedience. 

The  narrator  thought  it  necessary  to  embelHsh  the  tale 
from  his  own  imagination.  "That's  not  right,"  said  the 
child  at  the  first  change  which  was  made,  "the  mother  said 

H 


98      THE  FIRST  THREE    YEARS  OF   CHILDHOOD. 

this  and  did  that."  His  cousin,  not  remembering  the  story 
word  for  word,  was  obHged  to  have  recourse  to  invention  to 
fill  up  gaps.  But  the  child  could  not  stand  it.  He  slid 
down  from  his  cousin's  knees,  and  with  tears  in  his  eyes, 
and  indignant  gestures,  exclaimed,  *'  It's  not*  true  !  The 
little  bird  said,  Coui^  coui,  coui,  coui  before  he  fell  into  the  fire, 
to  make  his  mother  hear  ;  but  the  mother  did  not  hear  him, 
and  he  burnt  his  wings,  his  claws,  and  his  beak,  and  he 
died,  poor  little  bird."  And  the  child  ran  away,  crying  as 
if  he  had  been  beaten.  He  had  been  worse  than  beaten,  he 
had  been  deceived,  or  at  least  he  thought  so  ;  his  story  had 
been  spoiled  by  being  altered.  So  seriously  do  children  for 
a  long  time  take  fiction  for  reality. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    WILL. 

I  KNOW  not  if  it  be  very  daring  to  suppose'  that  all  the 
movements  produced  during  uterine  life  are  not  absolutely 
unconscious,  and  that  the  child  may  have  some  sort  of  idea  of 
a  few  of  them  at  the  moment  they  are  going  to  be  produced. 
For  instance,  we  may  ask  ourselves  if  it  has  in  no  measure 
preserved  the  recollection  of  certain  sensations  of  tempera- 
ture, of  pressure,  of  contact,  of  taste,  and  also  of  movements 
more  or  less  defined,  such  as  contortions,  tremblings,  con- 
tractions of  the  muscles  of  the  mouth,  which  the  organism 
will  have  made  in  response  to  these  different  sensations.  If 
it  were  so,  the  consciousness  which,  according  to  our  hypo- 
thesis, would  be  either  concomitant  with  or  consecutive  to 
these  instinctive  movements  and  the  sensations  which  deter- 
mined them,  would  tend  to  forestall  the  action  :  or  it  might 
diverge  into  two  separate  actions,  bearing  successively  on 
the  sensations  and  on  the  movements  in  question.  This  is 
how  it  would  be  :  a  sensation  would  be  strong  enough  to  be 
felt,  but  not  strong  enough  to  produce  instantaneously  the 
corresponding  movements ;  this  hesitation  of  the  instinct  of 
movement  in  following  the  shock  of  the  sensation, — perhaps 
a  pause  produced  by  two  crossing  sensations, — would  give 
the  child  time  to  interpose  a  glimmer  of  consciousness 
between  the  sensation  and  the  action ;  and  this  would  be  a 
first  slight  beginning  of  spontaneity.  Is  it  at  any  rate  alto- 
gether exaggerated  to  suppose  that  during  the  long  travail 
of  birth,  composed  of  such  varied  actions  and  interludes, 
the  child,  however  little  conscious  of  some  of  the  efforts 
which  it  makes  itself,  and  of   the  sensations  of  different 


100  THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD, 

degrees  of  intensity  which  cause  it  to  make  them,  is  never- 
theless capable  of  accidentally  producing  some  of  these 
movements  with  a  vague  desire  of  doing  so  ?  It  is  this  in- 
tervention of  consciousness  and  desire  (or  of  personal  spon- 
taneity in  the  production  of  movements  fatally  determined), 
if  it  does  exist  before  and  during  birth,  that  we  must  look 
upon  as  the  germ  of  voluntary  activity. 

But  without  troubling  ourselves  further  as  to  this  meta- 
physical hypothesis,  let  us  try  to  interpret  scientifically  some 
few  of  the  facts  observed  at  a  later  date.  That  which  dis- 
tinguishes voluntary  movements  and  actions  from  involuntary 
ones,  is,  that  in  the  former  there  exists  a  desire  either  to 
renew  or  to  get  rid  of  certain  sensations,  and  besides,  some 
idea  of  the  movements  necessary  to  produce  this  result ;  in 
other  words,  some  idea  of  the  muscular  sensations  corres- 
ponding to  these  movements.  The  desire  may  be  more  or 
less  vivid,  the  idea  of  the  movements  more  or  less  distinct, 
and  by  so  much  is  the  intervention  of  the  will  greater  or 
less.  It  is  generally  very  slight  during  the  first  period  of 
existence.  Whether  the  great  nerve  centres,  motor  and 
other,  be  incomplete  at  birth,  whether  instinct  makes  easy 
to  the  child  a  large  number  of  the  movements  which  it  seems 
to  learn,  the  vohtions, — that  is  to  say,  consciousness,  effort, 
and  desire, — play  very  little  part  in  those  movements  which 
are  predetermined  by  organization  and  heredity.  Thus 
the  fingers  of  a  child  a  few  days  old  close  too  easily  on 
any  object  placed  in  contact  with  its  palm,  for  it  to  be  very 
early  stimulated  to  produce  similar  movements  voluntarily. 
In  like  manner  it  may  be  maintained  that  the  progress  made 
in  the  act  of  suction  during  the  first  days  has  gone  on  with 
as  Uttle  of  consciousness  and  desire  as  possible,  that  this 
progress  is  due  to  a  development  of  forces  and  to  exercise, 
which  are  purely  mechanical;  but  can  the  same  be  said 
api'opos  of  the  remark  made  by  Tiedemann  on  his  sixteen- 
days-old  child.  "  If  put  in  a  position  to  suck,  or  if  he  felt 
a  soft  hand  on  his  face,  he  left  off  crying,  and  felt  about  for 
the  breast."  There  appears  to  be  something  more  here  than 
association  of  ideas.  There  seems  to  be  a  recollection  of 
and  a  desire  for  the  action  of  sucking,  and  perhaps  for  the 


THE  WILL.  lOI 

movements  of  suction.  M.  Preyer  only  recognises  the  first 
appearance  of  volition  in  a  child  in  its  holding  its  head  up- 
right, and  this  it  does  not  do  till  the  end  of  fourteen  weeks. 
We  may,  however,  notice  other  conscious  efforts  towards 
the  same  period.  When  a  month  and  five  days  old,  Tiede- 
mann's  child  "  distinguishedby  himself  objects  outside  him, 
showing  the  first  effort  to  seize  something  by  extending  his 
hands  and  bending  his  whole  body." 

The  same  movements,  more  or  less  conscious,  are  to  be 
remarked  in  cats  and  dogs  before  the  end  of  the  first  week. 
The  little  Tiedemann,  however,  seems  to  me  much  too  pre- 
cocious. The  following  observation  has  much  more  veri- 
simihtude.  When  a  month  and  twenty-seven  days  old,  the 
same  child  already  showed  that  he  realized  his  own 
activity ;  his  gestures  of  pleasure  indicated  this,  as  well  as 
his  fits  of  anger  and  violence  in  pushing  away  disagreeable 
things.  The  remark  made  at  the  same  period  by  Tiedemann, 
on  the  imperative  intention  of  tears,  is  confirmed  by  similar 
observations  of  Charles  Darwin's.  At  the  age  of  eleven 
weeks,  in  the  case  of  one  of  his  children,  a  little  sooner  in 
another,  the  nature  of  their  crying  changed,  *'  according  to 
whether  it  was  produced  by  hunger  or  suffering."  This 
means  of  communication  appeared  to  be  very  early  placed 
at  the  service  of  the  will.  The  child  seemed  to  have  learnt 
to  cry  when  he  wished,  and  to  contract  his  features  accord- 
ing to  the  occasion,  so  as  to  make  known  that  he  wanted 
something."  ^  This  development  of  the  will  takes  place 
towards  the  end  of  the  third  month.  At  the  same  period, 
Tiedemann's  son  was  still  at  the  stage  of  those  instinc- 
tive, or  rather  primitive,  movements  of  desire  which  show 
themselves  by  the  mechanical  extension  of  the  arm  and 
the  inchnation  of  the  whole  body ;  it  was  not  until 
towards  the  fourth  month  that  he  began  to  take  hold  of 
objects  placed  within  his  reach  ;  and  in  carrying  them  to 


^  Examples  taken  from  Darwin's  **  Expression  of  the  Emotions," 
and  which  I  have  reproduced  in  my  brochure  :  Thierri  Tiedemann  et 
la  Science  de  V Enfant.  Mes  Deux  Chats,  a  fragment  of  comparative 
psychology,  pp.  I2  etc. 


102    THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS  OF   CHILDHOOD. 

his  mouth  he  learnt  to  hold  them  firmly ;  all  these  steps  in 
advance  being  conscious  and  intended,  that  is  to  say, 
voluntary.  In  proportion  as  the  understanding  and  the 
motive  forces,  or,  in  other  words,  the  great  nerve  centres  of 
the  child,  develop,  the  emotional  element  of  volition  or 
desire,  and  the  idea  or  conception  of  the  movement  to  be 
made,  become  more  marked.  Desire  is  so  much  the  more 
keen,  as  the  conception  of  the  object  desired  becomes 
clearer.  This  is  the  case  with  all  movements,  which, 
though  partly  instinctive,  are  also  more  or  less  acquired ; 
they  become  all  the  more  conscious  and  intended  in  pro- 
portion as  their  more  complicated  nature  renders  their  exe- 
cution more  difficult. 

We  see  how  greatly  the  child  is  interested  in  his  efforts 
to  stretch  out  his  hands  towards  a  wished-for  object,  to  hold 
it  up,  to  handle  it,  to  sit  down,  to  stand  upright,  to  walk, 
etc.,  etc.,  from  the  fact  that  he  never  tires  of  repeating 
these  actions  after  having  once  accomplished  them,  and 
will  even  repeat  them  quite  inopportunely  "  in  response  to 
desire  in  general,  however  ludicrously  insufficient  to  accom- 
plish the  desired  end."  ^ 

The  will  of  a  child,  being  more  emotional  than  intellectual, 
is  generally  very  little  amenable  to  personal  control  from 
the  age  of  three  months  to  a  year.  At  this  age  desire 
manifests  a  more  or  less  impulsive  character,  the  volition  of 
a  being  without  experience,  if  left  to  itself,  being  insensible 
to  the  influence  of  any  but  the  simplest  motives.  When,  at 
the  age  of  four  months,  a  child  has  learnt  to  execute  a  few 
special  actions  with  his  hands,  more  tiian  one  lesson  is 
needed  to  form  an  association  in  his  mind  between  touch- 
ing a  certain  brilliant  object  and  sharp  pain,  and  to  counter- 
balance his  strong  tendency  to  touch  a  bright  flame.  But 
at  six  or  seven  months,  the  contact  with  a  prickly  brush,  ex- 
perienced several  times  over  in  a  £ew  minutes,  will  begin  to 
establish,  if  only  for  a  day  or  an  hour,  one  of  those  associa- 
tions which,  by  keeping  up  the  recollection  of  pain,  neutral- 
izes the  intensity  of  desire. 

^  Ferrier,  The  Brain  and  its  Functions. 


THE   WILL.  103 

The  elements  which  preponderate  in  a  child's  will  are 
impulsiveness  and  stubbornness ;  and  can  we  expect  any- 
thing else  from  a  little  creature  who  is  ignorant  of  the 
distant  consequences  of  actions,  and  who,  under  all  circum- 
stances, obeys  only  the  desire  or  the  aversion  of  the  mo- 
ment ?  The  following  anecdotes  plainly  illustrate  the  truth 
of  this. 

A  htde  girl  of  three  months  old,  who  had  always  been 
accustomed  to  be  rocked  to  sleep,  woke  up  one  day  whilst 
the  nurse  was  out  of  the  room  for  a  quarter  of  an  houT ; 
when  the  nurse  came  back,  she  found  the  child  in  a  frenzy 
of  despair  :  her  face  was  crimson,  and  her  eyes  for  the  first 
time  wet  with  tears ;  her  screams  could  be  heard  fifty  yards 
off.  The  nurse  rushed  to  the  cradle  and  tried  by  every 
means  in  her  power  to  soothe  the  terrified  child.  For  some 
time,  however,  her  efforts  were  all  repulsed,  the  child's 
hands  pushing  her  away ;  and  it  was  quite  ten  minutes  before 
her  caresses  and  coaxings  had  any  effect.  At  last,  however, 
the  child  seemed  to  be  pacified,  and  consented  to  take  the 
breast.  But  as  soon  as  its  appetite  was  satisfied,  its  fore- 
head puckered  up  again,  its  eyes  half  closed  under  its  con- 
tracted eyebrows,  its  mouth  quivered,  and  it  set  off  crying 
again.  The  nurse  then  thought  the  child  must  be  ill ;  but 
turning  suddenly  round  she  saw  lying  at  the  foot  of  the  bed 
a  heap  of  plaster  which  had  fallen  from  the  ceiling.  She 
was  horrified  at  the  discovery,  and  naturally  settled  that  this 
was  what  had  frightened  the  child  and  made  it  cry.  She 
kissed  and  petted  it,  and  began  rocking  it  to  sleep  again, 
and  in  a  very  few  minutes  its  cries  ceased  and  it  was  sleeping 
peacefully.  Then  the  nurse,  who  was  alone  in  the  house, 
set  to  work  to  clear  away  the  pieces.  She  had  to  go  down 
into  the  yard  to  throw  them  away,  and  a  neighbour  on 
the  rez-de-chaussee^  told  her  that  he  had  heard  the  noise 
of  the  plaster  falling  (which  was  very  slight)  directly  after 
the  nurse  went  out :  he  had  seen  her  go  out,  and  thought 
the  child  was  with  her  The  noise  of  the  falling  plaster 
must  have  awakened  the  child  with  a  start,  but  this  could 
hardly  have  been  the  cause  of  its  crying  so  long  :  the 
fact  was,  she  wanted  to  go  to  sleep  again,  and  grew  more 


104   THE   FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF   CHH.DHOOD. 

and  more  distressed  at  having  no  one  to  rock  her  to  sleep, 
as  usual.  Had  the  nurse  rightly  guessed  at  the  cause,  she 
would  have  had  much  less  trouble  in  quieting  her.  After- 
wards, in  telling  me  this  incident,  she  added :  "  I  finished 
where  I  ought  to  have  begun ;  children  are  very  stubborn, 
monsieur,  about  their  habits  and  customs." 

All  who  have  had  anything  to  do  with  the  management 
of  babies  know  well  what  dreadful  scenes  often  take  place 
during  the  operation  of  washing  and  dressing, — what 
screams,  tears,  and  struggles.  They  cannot  bear  being 
touched  by  water,  even  if  it  is  warm.  With  some  children 
these  scenes  begin  over  again  every  day,  unless  by  very 
great  skill  they  can  be  slipped  into  their  cradles  while 
asleep.  I  knew  one  child  who,  at  the  age  of  four  or  five 
months,  could  not  be  got  to  bed  without  the  assistance  of 
several  people.  If  one  leg  was  got  under  the  clothes,  the 
other  would  be  kicked  out ;  one  hand  had  to  be  held  whilst 
the  other  was  being  bandaged  up  (it  was  necessary  to 
bandage  his  hands,  to  prevent  his  scratching  his  face  whilst 
asleep) ;  and  the  whole  proceedings  were  accompanied  by 
screams,  howls,  and  contortions  of  the  face  and  body, 
when  he  was  six  months  old,  his  mother,  wishing  to  avoid 
the  almost  daily  recurrence  of  these  disagreeable  scenes, 
resolved  to  put  him  on  her  bed  to  sleep  for  an  hour  or  two 
after  dinner.  Instead  of  this  improving  matters,  however, 
his  fury  was  all  the  greater  when  he  was  put  in  his  cradle 
again ;  the  bed  had  spoiled  him,  and  he  would  have  nothing 
to  do  with  the  cradle.  It  ended  in  their  having  to  let  him 
be  on  the  bed  as  much  as  possible,  and  take  care  to  get  him 
sound  asleep  before  he  was  put  into  his  cradle  at  night. 
If  he  woke  up  afterwards,  the  flickering  flame  of  the  night 
light  was  enough  to  prevent  his  crying  and  to  soothe  him  to 
sleep  again. 

I  saw  this  child  again  when  he  was  about  a  year  old ;  and 
his  nurse  then  told  me  that  though  in  five  or  six  matters  he 
was  still  very  obstinate  and  self-willed,  yet  he  was  generally 
good-humoured  and  even  pliable.  If  any  one  smiled  at 
him,  he  would  smile  back  again  ;  he  made  himself  at  home 
on  anybody's  lap ;  he  had  learnt  not  to  wipe  away  certain 


THE  WILL.  IO$ 

people's  kisses ;  and  he  could  be  left  alone  quite  happily  for 
hours  with  neighbours,  or  even  with  strangers  whom  he  had 
never  seen  before.  But  this  was  if  his  mother  or  nurse 
were  not  present.  Directly  one  or  other  of  them  appeared, 
he  would  smile  at  her  from  a  distance,  hold  out  his  arms  to 
her,  and  make  efforts  to  get  down  if  she  did  not  come  to 
take  him,  or  if  he  were  not  carried  to  her.  Sometimes  they 
would  put  him  on  the  floor  to  go  to  the  person  he  wanted; 
and  then  he  would  crawl  on  all-fours,  pushing  himself  along 
with  the  help  of  his  knees  and  stomach.  This  was  a 
pleasing  kind  of  self-will.  In  the  morning,  when  his  mother 
had  had  her  breakfast,  she  used  to  take  him  to  his  father's 
bed,  and  there  he  went  through  all  sorts  of  little  games 
and  tricks,  turning  over  and  over,  now  on  his  back,  now 
on  his  stomach,  burying  his  head  in  the  pillow,  diving  under 
the  sheets,  wriggling  about  like  a  serpent,  mimicking  the 
noise  of  birds,  and  giving  vent  to  decided  bursts  of  laughter. 
This  morning  entertainment  he  looked  upon  as  his  right. 
If,  when  breakfast  was  over,  his  mother  did  not  at  once 
take  him  up  to  his  father's  room,  even  when  he  did  not 
hear  his  father's  voice,  he  would  call  out  Papa  !  and  then,  if 
no  one  seemed  to  understand  his  gestures  and  his  eloquent 
looks,  there  would  come  mingled  screams  and  sobs  and 
shrieks  of  Papa. 

A  little  girl,  now  rather  a  big  girl,  and  of  an  extremely 
amiable  and  sweet  disposition,  was  very  difficult  to  bring 
up,  so  her  grandmother  told  me.  Up  to  the  age  of  a  year, 
there  was  always  the  greatest  trouble  to  get  her  into  her 
cradle.  It  was  often  necessary  to  wait  a  long  time  for  a 
favourable  moment  to  pop  her  in,  and  then  the  slightest 
movement  would  wake  her  up  again  ;  or  if  she  did  not 
wake  up  again  at  this  critical  moment,  she  would  set  off 
crying  like  an  automaton  moved  by  a  spring,  the  instant 
she  came  in  contact  with  the  obnoxious  cradle.  This 
unconscious  crying  always  roused  her  up,  and  she  had  to 
be  taken  out  of  the  cradle  again,  to  avoid  the  tears  and 
screams  which  made  her  mother  fear  for  her  health.  There 
was  also  the  same  difficulty  always  over  the  bath.  She 
would  stiffen  herself  out  like  a  poker,  I  was  told,  and  scream 


I06   THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

like  a  little  fury.  Every  possible  dodge  was  tried  to  get 
her  to  stay  in  ;  the  nurse  pretended  to  get  in  with  her,  her 
favourite  toys  were  brought  her,  etc. ;  and  when  at  last  she 
had  been  got  in,  the  mother  or  the  nurse  must  not  stir,  or 
the  crying  and  kicking  began  again. 

I  will  give  one  mor^  example  at  about  the  same  age. 
Juliette  is  twenty-two  months  old.  Her  mother  has  for- 
bidden her  to  touch  the  flowers  in  the  window ;  she  is  only 
allowed  to  water  them  with  a  child's  watering-pot.  She 
performs  this  task  with  a  zeal  which  is  only  equalled  by 
her  awkwardness.  She  has  to  ask  her  mother's  permission 
always  before  doing  it;  the  flowers  would  be  swamped 
every  day  if  she  watered  them  whenever  she  wanted  to. 
When  she  has  been  disobedient,  the  nurse  waters  the  flowers 
instead.  Several  times  a  day  she  is  heard  saying :  "  Ittle 
dal  dood,  water  fower."  The  other  day  her  mother  was  in 
the  drawing-room  with  some  visitors  and  the  child  suddenly 
disappeared  with  her  toys.  At  the  end  of  ten  or  twelve 
minutes  she  reappeared,  her  frock  and  pinafore  literally 
soaked  with  water.  "Ittle  dal  dood,  water  fower,"  were 
her  first  words  on  coming  into  the  room.  One  of  the 
visitors,  on  kissing  her,  remarked  the  state  she  was  in.  Her 
mother  flew  into  the  next  room,  where  water  was  flowing 
everywhere.  This  is  what  had  happened  :  as  Juliette  had 
been  disobedient  at  table,  she  was  forbidden  to  water  the 
flowers,  and  her  little  watering-pot  had  been  hidden.  But 
the  temptation  was  greater  than  her  fear  of  being  scolded 
for  disobeying  a  second  time.  She  had  got  hold  of  her 
nurse's  watering-pot  and  turned  on  the  tap  to  try  and  fill  it 
herself;  but  she  had  only  succeeded  in  producing  an  in- 
undation and  deluging  her  frock.  She  looked  so  crestfallen 
and  penitent  that  her  mother's  only  scolding  was  to  laugh 
at  her.  In  the  evening  she  said  to  her  father  :  "  Ittle  dal 
not  be  dood,  not  no  longer  dood,  cause  not  like  water 
fower — not  like  be  all  wet."  The  next  morning  the  nurse 
gave  her  back  her  watering-pot;  but  she  threw  it  down 
saying,  '^  Not  dood  water-pot,  not  dood,  wet  ittle  dal,  no 
more  water  fower."  Her  resolution,  however,  did  not  hold 
out  when  she  saw  the  silvery  shower  pouring  out  of  the 


THE  WILL.  107 

nurse's  watering-pot.  "  Tttle  dal,  velly  dood,  water  fower," 
said  she,  and  picked  up  her  own  little  pot. 

There  is  not  one  of  the  above-cited  examples  which  does 
not  prove  that,  whether  under  the  form  of  automatic  desire, 
or  of  conscious  desire,  or  of  voluntary  determination,  action 
in  chii'dren  is  almost  always  subordinate  to  their  sensibility. 
What  they  want,  is  what  pleases  them  at  the  moment,  or 
what  they  remember  to  have  been  pleased  with  ;  what  they 
dislike  is  whatever  displeases  them  or  has  displeased  them. 

In  proportion  as  a  child  forms  its  experience,  a  greater 
number  of  sensations,  of  sentiment  and  ideas, — that  is  to  say, 
of  determinant  motives  and  impulses, — intervene  between 
the  action  and  the  determination,  which  was  before  simple 
and  instantaneous.  The  action,  when  one  is  produced,  is 
determined  by  the  strongest  motive  :  actions  of  this  nature 
are  called  deliberate,  in  distinction  to  those  which  are 
impulsive.  One  often  sees  a  young  child  hovering  between 
two  contrary  motives,  both  of  which  equally  solicit  him  to 
action  :  in  general,  the  hesitation  lasts  but  a  short  time, 
especially  if  both  the  motives  are  agreeable.  This,  no  doubt, 
is  for  the  reason  assigned  by  Delboeuf,  "  because  in  this 
case  it  is  better  to  act  than  to  wait.  Buridanus*  donkey,  we 
may  be  sure,  died  neither  of  hunger  nor  thirst."  ^  There  is 
not  even  in  such  a  case  a  conflict,  properly  so  called,  but 
merely  a  concurrence  of  motives.  An  almost  analogous 
case  is,  when  a  child  has  to  choose  between  the  pain  of  not 
having  a  strong  desire  gratified,  and  some  compensating 
pleasure  or  present  which  is  offered  to  him.  Here  regret 
struggles  with  an  attractive  reality ;  the  child  who  was 
crying  is  on  the  point  of  smiling ;  then  he  begins  to  cry 
again,  and  finally  he  consoles  himself  and  begins  to  laugh 
and  play.  At  other  times,  again,  the  conflicting  elements 
are  more  numerous  and  more  distinct;  for  instance,  we  find 
on  the  one  hand  these  four  terms  :  obedience,  privation  of 
a  desired  object,  approbation,  caresses ;  and  on  the  other 
hand  these  four  :    disobedience,  the  attraction  of  the  for- 


*  See  Revue  Philosophique,  Nov.  1881,  p.  517, 


I08   THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

bidden  object,  reproaches,  punishment.  These  difterent 
motives  either  evolve  themselves  separately  or  are  fused 
together ;  and  under  the  influence  of  their  representations, 
'mpulse  is  counter-balanced  for  a  longer  or  shorter  time. 
In  cases  of  this  sort  the  habit  of  associations  formed  between 
certain  motives  and  certain  ways  of  acting  greatly  facilitates 
the  operation  of  the  will.  But  deliberating  volition,  i.e.,  the 
reciprocal  inhibition  of  the  tendencies  to  action,  tends  more 
frequently  in  children  to  revert  to  impulsiveness,  and  to 
impulsiveness  dominated  by  actual  and  personal  suggestions. 
When  Bernard,  fifteen  months  old,  cries  without  any 
reason,  his  father  says  in  a  loud  voice,  "  Hold  your  tongue ; " 
and  sometimes  he  stops  at  once.  When  his  father  says, 
Drink,  or  Walk,  he  also  generally  obeys.  But  he  obeys  much 
more  readily  when  it  is  a  question  of  anything  which  amuses 
him  or  gives  pleasure  to  others.  Thus,  when  told  to  imitate 
the  dog  or  the  cat,  or  a  monkey,  to  clap  his  hands,  to  say 
JVo  and  shake  his  head,  he  does  not  have  to  be  told  twice. 
If  he  is  forbidden  to  do  anything  that  pleases  him,  he  obeys 
less  promptly  than  if  it  is  something  that  is  indifferent  to  him. 
He  obeys  positive  orders  more  readily  than  negative  ones 
— i.e.,  when  he  is  told  to  do  something,  than  when  told  not 
to  do  something ;  and  this  one  can  easily  understand,  for 
in  the  first  case  there  is  no  conflict  between  the  will  and  the 
order  given  him.  Although  he  sets  himself  obstinately 
against  walking  alone,  I  made  him  take  four  steps  towards 
me,  by  holding  out  to  him  half  a  peach  which  he  wanted 
very  much,  and  which  I  would  not  take  to  him.  But  his 
will  to  do  right  is  as  vacillating  as  his  legs.  When  he  had 
eaten  his  bit  of  peach,  I  made  a  second  trial,  and  the  result 
was  different  this  time.  I  offered  him  another  bit  of  peach 
and  said,  "  Come  to  papa,  come  and  fetch  the  peach,"  and 
he  came  at  once,  but  on  all-fours,  which  is  his  way  of 
running.  He  obeys  his  mother,  however,  better  than  his 
father,  gentleness  being  either  better  understood  by  him 
than  sternness,  or  else  having  more  influence  over  him. 
He  had  let  fall  a  piece  of  bread,  and  his  father  having  told 
him  to  pick  it  up,  he  turned  a  deaf  ear.  His  mother  went 
up  to  him,  and  he  wanted  to  take  her  hand;  but  she  said 


THE  WILL  109 

to  him  :  "  I  will  give  my  hand  to  baby  when  he  has  picked 
up  the  bread ;  first  pick  up  the  bread."  He  picked  it  up, 
and  then  held  out  his  hand  to  his  mother. 

Thus  we  see,  even  in  children  less  than  three  years  old,  a 
certain  faculty,  very  fluctuating  and  capricious  it  is  true, 
"of  inhibiting  or  restraining  action,  notwithstanding  the 
tendency  of  feelings  or  desires  to  manifest  themselves  in 
active  motor  outbursts."  ^  This  faculty  of  restraint,  which 
insures  the  volitional  control  of  the  movements,  and,  up  to 
a  certain  point,  of  the  ideas  also,  belongs  to  a  period  of 
greater  maturity,  when  experience  suggests  stronger  motives 
to  the  mind  by  calling  up  before  it  the  pleasant  or  un- 
pleasant consequences  of  actions,  and  when  the  faculty  of 
attention,  as  well  as  the  brain  centres  which  minister  to  it, 
being  more  developed,  restrains,  as  by  a  sort  of  mechanical 
inhibition,  the  sensations,  sentiments,  and  ideas,  whose 
tendency,  if  not  combated,  is  to  produce  instant  action. 
We  see  then  that  attention  is  one  of  the  most  important\ 
elements  of  volition,  which  explains  the  indecision,  weak-  \ 
ness,  changeableness,  and  caprice  of  a  child's  will.^ 

^  Ferrier,  7^/ie  Brain  and  its  Functions^  p.  232. 
2  I  shall  consider  further  on  the  close  relation  between  the  will  and 
the  moral  sense. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE    FACULTIES    OF    INTELLECTUAL    ACQUISITION    AND 
RETENTION. 

I. 

ATTENTION. 

As  attention  is  the  result  of  an  intense  or  distinct  sensation, 
and  as  the  organs  of  young  children  are  not  yet  able  to 
prolong  these  vibratory  excitations,  shocks  of  attention 
appear  to  be  very  rare  in  babies  quite  at  the  beginning  of 
life.  They  seem,  however,  to  occur  now  and  then.  When  I 
waved  an  object  at  a  little  distance  from  the  eyes  of  an 
infant  seventeen  days  old,  his  eyelids  trembled  and  closed, 
expressing  either  fear  or  the  desire  to  escape  from  a  vaguely 
unpleasant  sensation.  His  eyes  followed,  from  right  to  left 
and  left  to  right,  a  candle  that  I  moved  in  either  of  these 
directions.  The  sound  of  a  door  being  shut,  or  a  loud 
voice,  made  him  tremble  so  much  that  it  was  felt  by  the 
person  holding  him.  But  the  same  causes  only  reproduced 
the  same  effect  during  the  space  of  three  or  four  minutes ; 
afterwards  the  child  was  no  longer  impressed  by  the  colours 
of  the  moving  object,  the  light,  or  the  various  sounds  ;  it 
reassumed  its  habitual  rapt  expression,  its  eyes  becoming 
fixed  and  immovable  as  if  looking  within.  After  a  short 
time,  all  these  different  impressions,  by  dint  of  constant 
repetition,  become  objects  of  reminiscence,  of  vague  in- 
tention, of  desire,  or  of  dislike. 

The  attention  paid  by  children  to  their  sensations  and 
recollections  becomes  stronger  and  easier  every  day,  so 
much   so   that   if   often   appears   reflex.      When   children 


ATTENTION.  1 1 1 

seem  most  to  wish  to  fix  their  attention,  and  in  fact  when 
they  are  most  attentive,  there  is  in  reaUty  the  least  need  for 
their  being  so.  One  might  well  compare  an  attentive 
infant  to  a  kitten,  which  the  sight  of  some  bright  object,  or 
some  watched-for  prey,  will  hold  for  a  long  time  immovable, 
its  neck  stretched  out,  its  paws  pressed  against  the  ground, 
its  body  drawn  up,  its  eyes  dilated,  its  upper  lip  slightly 
arched,  as  if  directed  to  the  object  of  its  desire.  Here  we 
have  a  sensation,  or  group  of  sensations,  exclusively  per- 
ceived, repeatedly  renewed,  and  expected  ;  the  observing 
subject  seems  to  belong  less  to  himself  than  to  the  object 
he  is  observing ;  it  is  a  case  of  intense  reaction,  though  as 
it  were  passive,  of  attraction  more  or  less  conscious,  of  the 
fascination  of  an  attentive  being  by  the  object  of  his  atten- 
tion. The  pleasure  which  sucking  the  breast  affords  a 
baby  becomes  an  object  of  attention.  The  child  delights 
in  the  operation,  and  as  it  were  listens  to  and  looks  at 
himself,  and  feels  that  he  is  enjoying  himself.  This 
budding  of  the  conscious  faculty,  which  is  designated  by 
the  name  of  attention,  is  produced  first  from  the  exterior 
to  the  interior ;  it  is  an  excitation  of  the  nerve  cellules  under 
the  influence  of  an  irritating  impression ;  it  is  not  a  tension 
or  an  effort  from  within,  but  only  an  adaptation  of  the 
nerve  centres  to  admit  a  sensation.  Attention  may  be  the 
result  of  an  action  of  the  will ;  but  its  own  proper  actions 
are  apart  from  the  will;  it  is  a  channel  which  opens  to 
external  impressions,  and  which  the  will  may  sometimes 
keep  closed,  but  which  is  generally  open  in  spite  of  it.  It 
is  this  muscular  and  nervous  tension,  this  intense  reaction 
of  vivid  impressions,  more  often  forced  than  voluntary, 
which  constitutes  the  primitive  character  of  attention. 
Bossuet  designates  it  as  "forced  attention,"  and  he  adds : 
*'  But  this  is  not  altogether  what  we  call  attention  ;  we  only 
apply  this  name  when  we  choose  an  object  to  think  about 
it  voluntarily."  This  only  means  that  attention  has  degrees, 
and  that  that  of  which  young  children  are  capable,  volun- 
tary or  involuntary,  is  always  in  the  beginning  induced  by 
sensibility. 

I   knew  a  child  who,  at  the  age  of  a  month,  certainly 


112   THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

from  time  to  time  paid  sustained  attention  to  the  act  of 
suction.  This  was  evident  from  the  fixed  expression  of 
his  eyes,  which  sparkled  with  pleasure,  and  at  intervals  half 
veiled  themselves  under  the  eye-lids.  One  day  his  bottle 
was  filled  with  sugared  water  ;  after  sucking  a  few  drops  he 
stopped  for  three  seconds,  and  then  began  again  and  went 
on  with  the  same  attentive  expression  of  satisfaction  as  if  the 
bottle  had  contained  milk.  Plain  water  without  sugar  did 
not  have  the  same  success  ;  he  stopped  short  after  the  first 
mouthful,  went  back  to  the  bottle  after  a  pause  of  five  or 
six  seconds,  and  soon  turned  from  it  again  frowning  and 
pouting  most  significantly.  Here  then  we  see  attention 
applied  to  the  functions  of  taste. 

During  the  first  month,  the  various  movements  of  the 
organs,  automatic  or  conscious  (I  allude  only  to  the  pre- 
hensile organs),  are  executed  in  so  awkward  a  manner,  they 
are  so  vague  and  undecided,  that  I  have  not  been  able  to 
recognise  in  them  with  certainty  the  influence  of  attention 
applied  to  tactile  sensations.  It  is,  however,  impossible 
but  that  attention  should  be  equally  exercised  in  this 
manner.  In  fact,  when,  at  six  weeks  old,  the  hands  of  a 
child  wandered  over  its  mother's  breast,  face,  and  hands, 
the  fixed  and  joyous  expression  of  its  eyes,  and  its  wide- 
open  mouth  indicated  that  it  enjoyed  prolonging  these 
tactile  sensations,  however  vague  they  might  be.  At  two 
months  and  six  days  the  same  child  would  feel  its  mother's 
breast  and  face  and  keep  hold  of  her  finger  with  evidently 
voluntary  attention.  At  the  same  period  he  began  to 
stretch  out  his  hands  towards  his  mother's  breast,  wheii 
she  uncovered  it  at  a  distance  of  two  decimeters  from  his 
eyes. 

I  have  seen  a  little  girl  twenty-eight  days  and  a  little  boy 
thirty-five  days  old,  show,  by  the  fixity  of  their  eyes  and 
the  movements  of  the  lips  at  the  sight  of  the  feeding-bottle, 
that  they  recognised  the  instrument  by  which  they  were  fed, 
and  were  capable  of  directing  their  attention  to  it.  At  the 
same  period  they  used  to  lift  their  hands  automatically  to 
their  face  with  probably  very  little  consciousness  of  this 
involuntary  movement;  but  when  the  object  of  the  move- 


ATTENTION.  II3 

ment  was  to  rub  some  part  of  the  face,  the  repetition  of  it, 
and  the  accompanying  puckering  of  the  forehead  and 
dilating  of  the  eyes,  indicated  that  their  attention  was 
directed  to  some  disagreeable  sensations  which  they  were 
experiencing.  A  child  of  one  month  would  look  fixedly 
for  three  or  four  minutes  at  the  flickering  reflection  of  the 
light  on  a  table  near  the  window.  On  the  forty-fifth  day  I 
saw  him  follow  with  his  eyes,  after  having  first  well  looked 
at  it,  a  doll  dressed  in  light  blue  which  a  little  girl  was 
dandling  up  and  down  at  a  distance  of  more  than  a  yard. 
Five  days  later,  the  fixity  of  his  eyes  turned  in  a  certain 
direction  indicated  that  his  attention  was  concentrated  on 
something  white,  blue,  or  violet ;  other  colours  appeared  to 
be  indifferent  to  him,  perhaps  owing  to  temporary  Dalton- 
ism. When  two  months  old,  he  began  to  notice  red ;  but 
he  still  took  no  notice  of  black,  brown,  Hlac,  or  yellow. 

This  might  either  have  been  the  result  of  special  pre- 
disposition to  certain  sensations  of  colour,  or  of  relative 
feebleness  in  the  different  organs  of  sight !  We  must  put 
together  the  results  of  a  large  number  of  experiments  in 
order  to  draw  any  reliable  conclusions.  Infants  progress 
from  day  to  day  and  sometimes  from  hour  to  hour,  re- 
vealing, one  after  another,  faculties  which  had  not  at  first 
been  noticed.  Those  faculties  which  will  one  day  be  the 
strongest  are  not  always  the  first  to  appear.  I  know  a  case 
of  a  child  who  did  not  fix  his  attention  on  any  coloured 
object  before  the  age  of  two  months,  but  who  at  two 
months  and  a  half  was  as  sensible  to  colour  as  are  the 
most  precocious  children. 

As  to  the  attention  paid  to  sounds,  it  shows  itself  in 
the  second  fortnight.  Most  babies  at  the  age  of  twelve,' 
thirteen,  or  fifteen  days  tremble  when  they  hear  a  loud 
noise.  "  On  the  5th  of  September, — thirteen  days  after  his 
birth,  that  is  to  say, — it  was  observed  that  Tiedemann's  son 
took  notice  of  the  gestures  of  those  who  spoke  to  him  (?) ; 
their  words  even  called  forth  or  stopped  his  tears."  I  have 
seen  a  child  sixteen  days  old  sometimes  leave  off  crying 
when  his  mother  spoke  coaxingly  to  him ;  but  the  rhythmic 
movements  which  she  made  at  the  same  time  had  perhaps 

I 


114  THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

as  much  to  do  with  pacifying  him  as  her  words.  One 
night,  however,  she  could  not  succeed  in  quieting  him  ; 
the  father  got  angry  and  scolded  the  child,  and  finally  in 
a  loud  voice  ordered  him  to  be  silent.  I  cannot  say  what 
was  the  impression  produced  on  the  child,  but  he  instantly 
stopped  crying. 

"At  two  months  and  a  half,"  says  M.  Taine,  h  propos  of  a 
child  whom  he  had  studied,  "  I  noticed  a  movement  which 
was  evidently  acquired.  Hearing  the  voice  of  her  grand- 
mother, she  turned  her  head  in  the  direction  whence  the 
sound  came."  I  have  also  thought  I  noticed  the  same 
thing  in  a  child  of  a  month  and  two  days.  I  was  on  his 
left  hand  and  was  speaking  in  a  loud  voice ;  his  head 
appeared  to  turn  towards  the  left ;  and  the  fixity  of  his  eyes 
seemed  to  express  a  certain  amount  of  attention  to  the 
sound  of  my  voice.  At  the  age  of  a  month  and  a  half  a 
little  girl-baby  would  consciously  express  either  pain  or  the 
desire  to  be  fed,  by  two  different  kinds  of  cries.  When  she 
was  two  months  old  there  was  no  difficulty  in  distinguishing 
whether  her  tears  meant  pain,  desire,  or  anger.  Another 
child,  six  weeks  old,  used  to  make  starts  on  his  mother's 
lap  at  the  sound  of  the  violin.  When  two  months  old, 
the  barking  of  a  dog  in  his  room  caused  him  to  contract 
his  eyebrows,  purse  up  his  lips,  and  begin  to  cry ;  the  dog, 
on  being  petted,  changed  his  barking  to  a  sort  of  coaxing 
yelp ;  the  child  listened  very  attentively,  became  gradually 
calm,  and  appeared  to  take  pleasure  in  this  new  sound. 

At  a  very  early  age  we  notice  direct  correlation  between 
th^  strength  of  attention  and  the  vivacity  of  the  sensations 
or  feelings  experienced.  With  little  children,  as  with 
young  animals,  those  who  most  easily  fix  their  attention 
seem  to  be  those  whose  nervous  excitability  is  the  greatest. 
At  three  months  and  a  half,  a  very  quick  little  girl,  who 
could  already  distinguish  some  parts  of  her  body,  paid 
attention  to  all  that  went  on  around  her,  to  noises  of  every 
description,  the  sound  of  a  voice,  a  step  in  the  room,  the 
shutting  or  opening  of  a  door  or  window,  and  to  all 
colours,  even  the  least  vivid,  when  they  were  placed  within 
reach  of  her  sight.     A  boy  six  months  old,  intelligent  on 


ATTENTION.  II5 

the  whole,  but  lymphatic  and  not  very  sensitive,  would 
hardly  look  at  a  nosegay  of  pale-coloured  flowers,  placed 
rather  near  him ;  I  had  to  wave  them  close  in  front  of  his 
eyes  in  order  to  arrest  his  attention.  A  very  brilliant 
flower,  however,  which  I  put  beside  the  nosegay,  gave  him 
great  pleasure,  and  he  looked  at  it  for  one  or  two  minutes. 
Presently  a  cat  came  on  the  scene,  a  kind  of  animal  that  he 
had  not  yet  seen.  The  child  uttered  several  cries  of  joy, 
stretched  out  his  arms,  and  leant  his  whole  body  towards 
the  animal.  As  the  cat,  however,  did  not  come  up  to 
him,  he 'subsided  into  an  attitude  of  quietude.  Thus  it  is 
evident  that  the  power  of  attention  is  primarily  related  to 
the  vivacity  of  sensation. 

The  more  developed  sensibility  which  produces  the 
various  sentiments,  that  is  to  say,  ideas,  recollections  of 
sensations,  magnified  and  exaggerated,  exercises  a  consider- 
able influence  over  the  attention  of  adults.  "  With  the 
greater  number  of  men,  the  definite  direction  which  intelli- 
gence takes,  is  inspired  by  sentiment."  ^  What  is  it  to  love, 
if  not  to  think  constantly  and  with  pleasure  of  some 
person  or  object?  What  is  it  to  hate?  To  think  always 
with  pain  of  a  disagreeable  object.  It  is  passion, — that  is  to 
say,  attention  constantly  excited,  or  even  over-excited,  by 
feeling, — which  makes  lovers,  artists,  heroes,  and  savants.  I 
would  modify  the  saying  of  Buflbn,  and  I  would  say  that 
genius  is  a  long  passion.  The  little  infant,  hardly  a  month 
old,  is,  as  we  have  said  before,  already  capable  of  feeling 
sentiments  properly  so  called,  though  in  a  limited  degree. 
He  loves  his  mother  for  what  he  gets  from  her,  if  not  for 
herself;  he  loves  his  feeding-bottle  or  the  breast  which 
feeds  him,  the  arms  which  caress  or  carry  him,  the  faces 
which  sing  to  or  smile  on  him,  the  eyes  which  speak  to  him. 
He  fears,  he  desires,  he  suffers,  he  hopes,  he  frolics,  he 
gets  irritated;  and  these  are  all  so  many  different  exci- 
tations of  his  faculty  of  attention,  already  developed  by 
exercise  and  by  the  habit  of  keen  sensations.      But  his 


Dr.  Castle,  Spiritualistic  Phrenology^  chapter  on  Education. 


Il6    THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

moral  sensibility,  still  in  a  state  of  vague  formation,  can 
only  influence  his  powers  of  attention  in  a  very  slight 
degree,  even  when  there  are  the  most  favourable  hereditary 
predispositions. 

This  original  diversity  of  the  faculties  which  concur  to 
form  or  to  excite  attention,  is  generally  modified  by  the 
effect  of  natural  compensations.  A  very  impressionable 
child  experiences  too  great  a  number  of  different  sensations 
for  them  to  be  able  to  transmit  durable  impressions  to  the 
brain,  hence  a  habit  of  quick  and  ready  attention  capriciously 
or  insufficiently  bestowed  on  every  object  in  turn,  and  thus 
it  is  to  be  feared  that  the  little  girl  of  whom  I  have  spoken 
above,  with  the  ordinary  education  which  awaits  her,  that  is, 
very  little  more  than  the  chance  action  of  circumstances  on 
her  own  original  faculties,  will  become  a  mere  commonplace 
or  flighty  woman,  with  no  definite  power  of  thought,  and  full 
of  unbalanced  and  fantastic  ideas ;  superficial,  in  short,  both 
in  heart  and  mind.  On  the  other  hand,  the  boy  described 
at  the  same  time,  less  susceptible  to  ordinary  impressions, 
with  sensibility  less  easily  roused,  more  slow  to  bestow  his 
attention,  and  more  slow  also  to  take  it  away,  will  very 
likely,  under  the  same  educational  conditions,  develop  a 
clear,  firm,  and  practical  mind.  He  may  perhaps  have  few 
ideas,  but  those  he  has  will  be  firmly  held  and  accurate, 
because  he  will  have  taken  his  time  to  form  them ;  and 
provided  the  spontaneous  development  of  his  mediocre 
faculties  be  not  checked,  he  will  know  well  the  little  he 
does  know.  We  may  add  that  his  organs  of  attention  will 
have  acquired  by  exercise  a  power  of  adaptation  which  will 
perhaps  compensate  for  their  want  of  natural  quickness. 
This  is  a  point  of  great  interest  to  rational  educators. 

Whatever  differences  natural  dispositions  or  regular 
exercise  may  produce  in  individual  faculties,  the  general 
tendency  of  a  child's  attention  is  to  be  brief  and  volatile. 
The  concentration  of  mental  activity,  the  direction  of  the 
intellectual  vision,  look  after  look,  on  one  subject,  is  as 
difficult  for  a  little  child  as  it  would  be  for  a  valetudinarian 
to  repeat  during  the  space  of  two  minutes  the  series  of 
muscular   efforts   which   represent   the  lifting   of  a   heavy 


ATTENTION.  II7 

weight.  What  we  call  an  act  of  attention,  is  in  f  jallty  a 
series  of  attentive  actions,  repeated  a  greater  or  less  number 
of  times  during  a  relatively  short  interval.  We  must  not, 
however,  exaggerate  the  astounding  rapidity  of  thought. 
Its  supposed  immeasurable  velocity  has  in  fact  been 
measured,  both  in  men  and  animals,  by  the  Dutchman 
Bonders,  and  others  after  him.  But  although  the  rapidity 
of  thought  is  not  incalculable,  it  is  none  the  less  very  great ; 
and  to  pay  attention  to  any  one  thing,  if  only  for  a  few 
minutes,  is  to  have  observed  it  several  times  during  that 
short  space  of  time. 

Thus,  in  spite  of  the  services  that  will,  firm  desire,  and 
habit  render  the  faculty  of  attention,  by  continually  increas- 
ing its  facility  and  energy,  yet  even  in  the  most  gifted  of 
men  it  is  always  liable  to  fail.  Persons  the  most  accustomed 
to  intellectual  work  are  often  obliged  to  force  themselves  to 
set  to  work  even  at  the  most  familiar  tasks.  Very  few 
people,  I  take  it,  work  because  work  is  pleasant  to  them. 
It  is  almost  always  the  urgent  motives  of  necessity,  interest, 
ambition,  or  duty,  which  determine  them  to  make  and  re- 
make the  first  painful  plunges  j  but  once  started  again  in 
the  accustomed  groove,  the  pleasure  and  excitement  of 
getting  on  keeps  them  going  and  facilitates  and  sharpens 
their  power  of  attention  up  to  the  moment  when  lassitude 
causes  it  to  wane.  Grown-up  people  find  a  remedy  for  this 
periodical  weariness  and  difficulty  in  intellectual  labour,  in 
that  law  of  nature  which  makes  change  of  work  a  rest  to 
the  mind,  just  as  variety  in  diet  gives  a  fresh  stimulus  to 
the  appetite.  But  a  young  child,  drawn  continually  in  all 
directions  by  over-exciting  impressions,  and  endowed  with 
very  little  power  of  resistance,  has  no  such  antidote  for 
lassitude  of  the  brain.  At  the  smallest  effort  he  is  com- 
pelled to  surrender. 

Thus  the  greatest  amount  of  attention  in  a  child  is  in- 
finitely little.  This  faculty  of  attention,  which  plays  so 
considerable  a  part  in  scholastic  life,  has  hitherto  been  very 
imperfectly  studied.  I  know  scarcely  more  than  two  men, 
Horace  Grant  and  Edwin  Chadwick,  who  have  taken  up 
the  subject.    Their  researches  have  taught  us,  that  after  five 


Il8    THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

or  six  minutes  in  the  case  of  infants,  and  from  thirty  to 
forty-five  in  the  case  of  older  scholars,  the  attention  becomes 
fatigued  and  intellectual  effort  fails;  that  in  schools,  the 
capacity  for  attention  varies  with  the  duration  of  the  classes, 
the  season  of  the  year,  the  time  of  day,  the  day  of  the  week, 
the  interval  of  time  between  meals  and  studies,  etc.  These 
observations,  however,  have  done  no  more  than  open  up  the 
way.^  If  this  question  has  only  begun  to  be  considered 
with  regard  to  children  in  general,  it  has  not  even  been 
thought  of  in  connection  with  the  first  period  of  infancy, 
that  is  to  say  from  birth  up  to  the  first  attempts  at  speech. 
Long  and  patient  observation  will  be  necessary,  to  construct 
merely  the  outline  of  this  science  of  infant  psychology,  of 
which  we  do  not  here  intend  to  make  an  exhaustive  treatise 
but  simply  a  sketch. 

But  if  children  use  their  attentive  powers  very  feebly, 
they  use  them  frequently,  and  in  a  rapid  but  nevertheless 
profitable  manner.  The  strong  sensibility  of  their  young 
brains  sometimes  makes  up  for  the  adults'  power  of  con- 
centration, especially  if  it  be  aided  by  frequent  repetition. 
"In  young  children,"  says  M.  Luys,  "the  cerebral  cells  are 
endowed  with  special  histological  characters ;  they  are 
flabby,  greyish,  flexible  in  a  manner;  they  are,  moreover, 
from  the  dynamic  point  of  view,  virgin  to  any  anterior  im- 
pression.2  The  sensorial  excitation  that  affects  them  at 
that  age  must  therefore  imprint  itself  upon  them  more 
readily,  since  it  finds  them  in  a  state  of  vacuity,  their  power 
of  retention  not  being  put  to  the  test.  On  the  other  hand, 
in  the  first  years  of  life  the  cerebral  substance  is  in  perpetual 
exercise  and  organic  development.  New  elements  are  per- 
petually being  added  to  the  old  ones ;  and  as  the  new  are 
most  probably  derived  from  their  predecessors,  we  are  led 
to  conclude  that  the  daughter-cells  which  appear,  borrow 
from  the  mother-cells  which  give  them  birth  an  inevitable 
bond  of  relationship,  a  species  of  hereditary  transmission  ot 
the   different  states  of  the  mother-cells  from  whence  they 


*  Fonsagrives,  The  Physical  Edtuaiion  of  Boys,  p.  1 76. 
2  This  is  not  altogether  our  opinion. 


ATTENTION.  1 19 

spring.  .  .  .  It  is  in  these  intimate  connections  between 
cell  and  cell,  in  these  mysterious  bonds  of  relationship,  that 
we  must  look  for  the  secret  of  the  perennial  character  of 
certain  memories.  Thus  it  is,  that  certain  impressions  re- 
ceived in  our  childhood  become  the  common  patrimony  of 
certain  families  of  cells,  which  maintain  them  in  a  state  of 
freshness,  incessantly  vivifying  them  by  a  sort  of  permanent 
co-operation.  ...  In  the  young  child  the  impression- 
ability of  the  cerebral  substance  is  such  that  it  retains,  motu 
pi^oprio,  all  the  impressions  that  assail  it,  as  passively  as  a 
sensitized  photographic  plate  that  we  expose  to  the  light, 
retains  all  the  images  that  are  reflected  on  its  surface."  ^  : 
It  remains  for  us  to  examine  two  questions  relative  to! 
this  faculty  of  attention,  which  is  said  to  be  the  master: 
faculty  of  the  mind.  First,  Helvetius  has  maintained  the 
rather  Cartesian  opinion,  that  all  men  are  naturally  gifted 
with  the  attention  and  intelligence  necessary  for  the  san^ 
degree  of  development ;  but  that  attention  means  labour, 
and  that  all  men  are  not  susceptible  of  sufficiently  strong 
passions  to  change  this  labour  into  pleasure.  The  differ- 
ences in  men  thus  proceed  from  inequality  of  the  passions, 
and  not  of  the  faculty  of  attention.  The  famous  professor 
Jacolot  has  taken  up  the  same  theme  in  the  present  day  -, 
and  he  seems  to  have  even  exaggerated  the  paradox.  Ac- 
cording to  him,  all  intelligences  are  equal;  minds  only  differ 
in  consequence  of  the  different  powers  of  attention,  which 
are  in  proportion  to  the  will  of  the  individual.  The  truth 
is,  in  a  physiological  and  psychological  sense,  that  we  bring 
with  us  at  birth  intellectual  and  moral  orgnizations  different 
in  quantity,  but  not  in  quality.  But  it  is  not  perhaps  quite 
reasonable  to  trust  absolutely  to  first  appearances  in  respect 
of  intellectual  and  moral  inequalities.  Is  it,  in  fact,  impos 
sible  to  remedy  an  incapacity  of  attention  which  is  perhaps 
hereditary,  perhaps  accidental  and  passing?  Can  we  tell, 
either,  whether  these  inequalities  are  not,  perhaps  chiefly,  the 
result  of  the  training  during  infancy  ?     This  question,  which 


*  Luys,   Le  Cerveau  et  ses  Foitdions.      See  Eng.   Trans.   (Internat. 
Scient.  Series),  pp.  159,  160. 


120   THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

J  shall  do  no  more  than  briefly  suggest  here,  is  a  complicated 
one.  To  settle  it  now,  either  by  the  laws  of  heredity  or 
by  means  of  the  very  meagre  knowledge  of  infant  psycho- 
logy we  at  present  possess,  would  in  my  opinion  be  pre- 
mature. At  any  rate  I  shall  content  myself  with  merely 
suggesting  the  question  here,  and  shall  hope  later  on  to 
enter  into  it  more  fully,  taking  into  consideration  all  its 
developments  and  ramifications. 

The  second  question  of  importance  to  those  interested  in 
infant  education,  is  to  know  whether  it  is  possible  to  predict 
a  child's  capacity  for  attention  from  phrenological  indica- 
tions. This  is  a  problem  connected  with  the  preceding 
one,  and  quite  as  difficult  to  solve.  This  much,  however, 
we  may  say,  that  without  admitting  with  Gall  and  Spurzheim 
a  topographically  separate  localization  of  the  independent 
faculties,  modern  phrenology  recognises  the  facts  that  certain 
portions  of  the  cerebral  hemispheres, — the  anterior  lobes,  for 
instance, — are  always  concerned  in  the  carrying  on  of  intel- 
lectual operations,  and  that  these  operations,  identical  in 
nature,  evidently  show  different  degrees  of  complexity  in 
different  individuals.  Ferrier,  who,  by  his  skilful  experi- 
ments on  the  brains  of  monkeys,  has  thrown  so  much  light  on 
these  obscure  subjects,  believes  in  the  possible  localization 
of  the  perceptive  centres  in  the  hemispheres.  With  regard 
to  attention,  he  thinks,  like  Bain  and  Wundt,  that  this  faculty 
implies  the  activity  of  the  motive  faculties.  "  In  calling  up 
an  idea "  he  says,  "  or  when  engaged  in  the  attentive  con- 
sideration of  some  idea  or  ideas,  we  are  in  reality  throwing 
into  action,  but  in  an  inhibited  or  suppressed  manner,  the 
movements  with  which  the  sensory  factors  of  ideation  are 
associated  in  organic  cohesion.  .  .  .  The  recall  of  an 
idea  being  thus  apparently  dependent  on  excitation  of  the 
motor  element  of  its  composition,  the  power  of  fixing  the 
attention  and  concentrating  consciousness  depends,  further, 
on  inhibition  of  movement.  During  the  time  we  are  en- 
gaged in  attentive  ideation,  we  suppress  actual  movements, 
but  keep  up  in  a  state  of  greater  or  less  tension  the  centres 
of  the  movement  or  movements  with  which  the  various 
sensory  factors  of  ideation  cohere.     ...     In  proportion 


MEMORY.  121 

to  the  development  of  the  faculty  of  attention  are  the  intel- 
lectual and  reflective  powers  manifested.  This  is  in  accord- 
ance with  the  anatomical  development  of  the  frontal  lobes 
of  the  brain,  and  we  have  various  experimental  and  patho- 
logical data  for  localizing  in  these  the  centres  of  inhibition, 
the  physiological  substrata  of  this  psychological  faculty. 
.  .  .  The  powers  of  attention  and  concentration  of 
thought  are,  further,  small  and  imperfect  in  idiots,  with  de- 
fective development  of  the  frontal  lobes ;  and  disease  of  the 
frontal  lobes  is  more  especially  characteristic  of  dementia  or 
general  mental  degradation.  .  .  .  The  development  of 
the  frontal  lobes  is  greatest  in  men  with  the  highest  intel- 
lectual powers ;  and,  taking  one  man  with  another,  the 
greatest  intellectual  power  is  characteristic  of  the  one  with 
greatest  frontal  development. 

"  The  phrenologists  have,  I  think,  good  grounds  for  local- 
izing the  reflective  faculties  in  the  frontal  regions  of  the 
brain ;  and  there  is  nothing  inherently  improbable  in  the 
view  that  frontal  development  in  special  regions  may  be  in- 
dicative of  the  power  of  concentration  of  thought  and 
intellectual  capacity  in  special  directions."  ^ 

It  is  thus  beyond  doubt  that  a  marked  projection  of  the 
frontal  region  of  the  cranium  is  generally  the  sign  of  natural 
power  of  attention  ;  from  which,  however,  we  must  not  infer, 
in  the  case  of  proportionate  depression  of  this  region,  a 
radical  incapacity  for  attention.  There  is  no  hereditary 
defect  which  education  cannot  lessen  or  do  away  with. 

II. 

MEMORY. 

Memory  is  not  a  purely  intellectual  faculty  whose  I'ole  is  to 
preserve  and  reproduce  the  past  actions  of  its  owner.  It  is 
that  property  inherent  in  everything,  and  especially  in  every- 
thing that  lives,  to  retain  a  trace  of  all  impressions  received. 
Every  impression  leaves  a  mark,  more  or  less  deep  and 
durable,  and  capable  of  combining  in  a  thousand  ways  with 

^  Ferrier,    The  Functions  of  the  Brain,  pp.  285-288. 


122    THE   FIRST   THREE  ,YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

the  marks  of  other  impressions  in  the  cellules  of  the  nerve, 
muscular,  and  cerebral  tissues.  Thus,  in  all  parts  of  the 
being,  there  are  dispositions,  either  hereditary  or  acquired, 
to  remember,  that  is,  to  preserve  and  to  reproduce.  There 
is  not  only  a  psychological  but  also  an  organic  memory ; 
sensations,  sentiments,  affections,  states  of  the  viscera,  the 
nerves,  and  the  muscles, — movements  and  association  of 
movement,  all  that  has  once  gone  on  within, — may  be  re- 
vived, whether  we  are  conscious  of  it  or  not. 

From  the  moment  of  its  birth,  an  infant,  whose  first  act  of 
breathing,  as  we  have  already  said,  is  pain,  who  hungers  and 
thirsts,  who  suffers  from  the  relative  cold  of  the  surrounding 
atmosphere,  from  the  sudden  freedom  given  to  its  limbs, 
from  the  sounds  which  shock  its  feeble  hearing  and  the 
rays  of  light  which  strike  on  its  eyes,  from  the  unaccustomed 
contact  with  people  and  things  that  come  near  it,  and  who 
expresses  all  these  different  feelings  of  annoyance  by 
screams,  or  rather  sharp  gaspings,  by  agitated  gestures,  and 
deep  flushes  over  its  face  and  head,  is  executing  automatic 
actions,  /.<?.,  hereditary  reflex  movements,  which  have  be- 
longed to  others  before  him  ;  and  this  is  hereditary  memory. 
"  Each  nerve  has  a  sort  of  memory  of  its  past  Hfe,  is  trained 
or  not  trained,  dulled  or  quickened,  as  the  case  may  be ; 
each  feature  is  shaped  and  characterized,  or  left  loose  and 
meaningless,  as  may  happen  ;  each  hand  is  marked  with  its 
trade  and  life,  subdued  to  what  it  works  in  ; — if^ve  could  but 
see  it:'  ' 

All  this  is  found  transmitted  by  heredity,  in  the  actions 
and  gestures  of  the  new-born  child,  and  why  should  not 
what  is  true  in  respect  to  apparent  movements  be  also  true 
in  regard  to  other  manifestations  of  human  activity,  such  as 
sensation,  sentiments,  and  primordial  ideas  ? 

I  have  often  put  this  question  to  myself,  and  not  without 
anxiety,  when  I  have  found  myself  face-to-face  with  a  little 
child,  a  mysterious  sphinx  unconsciously  watching  me  ob- 
serving it,  and  whose  large  calm  wondering  eyes  disconcert 


Bagehot,  Physics  and  Politics,  p.  3. 


MEMORY.  123 

my  laborious  inductions.  I  remembered  that  such  and  such 
an  action,  buried  a  long  time  in  the  storehouse  of  potential 
faculties,  had  suddenly  sprung  to  light,  aroused  by  the  for- 
tuitous concurrence  of  certain  favourable  circumstances.  I 
have  asked  myself  if  I  must  not  set  down  to  the  credit  of 
instinct  and  heredity  that  which  my  observations  had  led 
me  to  attribute  to  consciousness  and  individual  experience,  j 
Thus,  children  have  an  instinctive  faculty  for  walking,  and 
yet  they  have  to  learn  the  process  by  long  efforts,  conscious  ( 
and  progressive.  They  have  an  instinct  for  sucking,  and 
nevertheless,  as  in  the  case  of  dogs  and  lambs,  this  operation 
has  also  to  be  learnt  by  them.  Chickens,  colts,  and  calves 
walk  by  instinct  as  soon  as  they  are  born,  and  this  is  an 
automatic  action,  rendered  easy  by  their  organization,  but 
which  they  perfect  by  exercise  and  attention. 

These  reflections  have  suggested  another  which  has  quieted 
my  conscience  as  an  observer,  namely  (and  Darwin  is  not 
opposed  to  this  opinion),  that  the  operations  due  to  instinct 
may  easily,  at  the  very  outset,  awaken  a  conscious  sense ; 
and  that,  for  instance,  the  first  attempts  at  sucking  or  walk- 
ing may  unite  in  varying  proportions  reflex  influences  with 
conscious  efforts.  Thus  then  we  may  believe  unreservedly 
in  the  existence  of  actual  activity,  even  when  the  gestures 
and  movements  seem  to  be  derived  from  heredity,  for  they 
are  brought  into  sub-order,  controlled  and  perfected  by  the 
present  personality.  Thus  the  Httle  baby  who,  at  the  age^ 
of  five  weeks,  when  his  nurse  sang  him  a  familiar  air  or  ' 
spoke  in  a  caressing  voice,  began  to  warble  various  little 
sounds,  did  this  by  instinct  and  organic  sympathy— the 
result  of  hereditary  memory,  and  also  by  the  help  of  recol- 
lection associating  together  these  sounds  and  the  nurse's 
voice — />.,  the  result  of  individual  memory. 

It  needs  only  the  most  elementary  powers  of  observation 
to  see  that  the  extent  of  the  personal  acquisitions  of  a  little 
child,  only  a  few  weeks  old,  is  considerable.  We  have 
already  seen  in  play,  from  the  age  of  two  and  three  months, 
all  the  various  and  numerous  actions,  instinctive,  voluntary, 
intellectual,  and  moral,  which  psycholoc^ists  generally  observe 
at  a  more  advanced  age.     It  is  needless  to  recapitulate  these 


124    THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

facts,  which  indicate  so  evidently  how  prompt,  energetic,  and 
tenacious  a  faculty  memory  is  at  the  commencement  of  life. 

It  is  noticeable  also  that  the  recollections  most  firmly 
planted  in  the  mind  are  not  always  those  which  exhibit 
themselves  most  prominently.  The  most  important,  and 
perhaps  the  most  durable,  are  those  of  which  custom  appears 
to  have  dulled  the  vividness,  and  whose  capacity  for  revival 
is  dependent  on  the  reflex  or  unconscious  energy  of  the 
intelligence.  When  Georgie  stops  before  the  prickly  brush 
without  touching  it,  the  idea  of  a  brush  is  clearly  fixed  in  his 
mind,  and  yet  nothing  betrays  the  recollection  of  a  painful 
impression.  This  is  what  leads  us  to  believe  that  nothing  is 
unimportant  in  the  life  of  man,  and  that  the  education  of 
infants  should  have  the  same  interest  for  us  as  that  of  older 
children.  Most  of  the  ideas  which  influence  the  intellectual 
and  moral  nature  of  a  man  during  the  whole  of  his  Hfe  (as 
the  startling  instances  of  revived  memories  recorded  in  cases 
of  hallucination,  of  hypnotism,  or  simply  of  exaggerated 
passion,  testify)  spring  from  the  latent  capacities  of  the  mind 
— the  mysterious  but  dominant  basis  of  the  soul.  Nothing 
is  lost  in  nature,  and,  as  Mr.  Bagehot  has  eloquently  said, 
each  nerve  retains  perhaps  the  memory  of  its  past  life. 

How  many  of  the  sudden  flashes  of  sentiment,  idea, 
movement,  of  happy  or  deplorable  inspiration,  which  we 
attribute  either  to  the  natural  powers  of  the  mind,  or  to 
education,  or  to  the  effects  of  example  or  excitement,  are 
perhaps  in  truth  reminiscences  from  the  cradle.  True,  I 
have  not  been  able  to  establish  any  instances  of  memory 
going  back  beyond  the  two  first  years  of  life,  but  that  is  no 
reason  why  none  should  exist.  Language  has  become  in- 
corporated with  a  great  number  of  ideas  anterior  to  itself ; 
and  as,  generally  speaking,  words  accompany  the  reappear- 
ance of  ideas,  we  are  prone  to  imagine  that  the  race  has  had 
no  other  ideas  than  those  which  are  symbolized  by  speech, 
and  that  we  have  only  retained  traces  of  those  ideas  which 
were  acquired  at  the  epoch  and  by  the  means  of  speech. 
To  affirm  this,  however,  is  to  deny  the  existence  in  animals 
of  a  considerable  number  of  ideas  which  they  have  no  means 
of  expressing.     My  belief  is,  that  all  the  ideas  which  were 


MEMORY.  125 

well  conceived  and  well  preserved  before  the  epoch  of 
speech,  though  they  may  have  been  defined  and  fixed  by  the 
use  of  signs,  have  been  inherent  in  memory  from  the  most 
remote  epoch. 

Such  are  the  familiar  ideas  of  dog^  cat,  birds,  flowers,  milk; 
heat,  cold,  roughness,  polish,  palatable,  bitter,  etc.,  etc.  All 
essential  ideas,  that  is  to  say,  and  which,  although  modified 
by  the  posterior  work  of  intelligence,  have  not  the  less  pre- 
served their  date  and  their  rank  in  the  collection  of  cerebral 
processes.  It  is  not  likely  that  these  impressions,  so  numer- 
ous and  so  powerful,  and  which  have  served  as  mental  exer- 
cise during  the  first  two  years,  should  only  have  been  the 
point  of  departure  of  future  modifications.  These  were  the 
first  impulsions  of  a  movement  which  has  gone  on  develop- 
ing and  expanding,  and  is  still  going  on.  Life,  in  an  organized 
being,  does  not  break  ofi"  and  begin  again  ;  it  is  a  prolonged 
and  continuous  series  of  modifications.  Not  one  of  the 
perceptions  of  our  infancy,  whether  or  no  modified  by  lan- 
guage, is  extinct;  they  have  reappeared,  or  may  reappear, 
in  the  intelligence,  in  the  will,  or  in  the  sensibility. 

In  the  excellent  monograph  on  memory  lately  pubHshed 
by  M.  Th.  Ribot  I  find  a  kind  of  confirmation  of  the  hy- 
pothesis for  which  I  wanted  facts.  It  is  known  that  the 
general  excitations  of  the  memory  seem  to  depend  exclu- 
sively on  physiological  causes,  which  are  often  abnormal 
ones.  As  to  the  partial  excitations,  they  too  most  often 
result  from  morbid  causes  ;  but  the  two  following  examples 
would  seem  to  indicate  that  they  can  be  produced  in  a 
sound  state  of  mind  : — 

"  A  lady,  in  the  last  stage  of  a  chronic  disease,  was  carried 
from  London  to  a  lodging  in  the  country  ;  there  her  infant 
daughter  was  taken  to  visit  her,  and  after  a  short  interview 
carried  back  to  London.  The  lady  died  a  few  days  after, 
and  the  daughter  grew  up  without  any  recollection  of  her 
mother,  till  she  was  of  mature  age.  At  this  time  she  hap- 
pened to  be  taken  into  the  room  in  which  her  mother  died, 
without  knowing  it  to  have  been  so ;  she  started  on  entering 
it,  and  when  a  friend  who  was  along  with  her  asked  the  cause 
of  her  agitation,  replied,  'I  have  a  distinct  impression  of 


126   THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

having  been  in  this  room  before,  and  that  a  lady,  who  lay 
in  that  corner  and  seemed  very  ill,  leant  over  me  and  \vept."i 

Here  is  another  example  :  — 

*'  Several  years  ago,  the  Rev.  S.  Hansard,  now  Rector  of 
Bethnal  Green,  was  doing  clerical  duty  for  a  time  at  Hurst- 
monceaux  in  Sussex  ;  and  while  there  he  one  day  went  over 
with  a  party  of  friends  to  Pevensey  Castle,  which  he  did 
not  remember  to  have  ever  previously  visited.  As  he  ap- 
proached the  gateway,  he  became  conscious  of  a  very  vivid 
impression  of  having  seen  it  before  ;  and  he  *  seemed  to 
himself  to  see'  not  only  the  gateway  itself,  but  donkeys 
beneath  the  arch,  and  people  on  the  top  of  it.  His  convic- 
tion that  he  must  have  visited  the  castle  on  some  former 
occasion, — although  he  had  neither  the  slightest  remem- 
brance of  such  a  visit,  nor  any  knowledge  of  having  ever 
been  in  the  neighbourhood  previously  to  his  residence  at 
Hurstmonceaux, — made  him  inquire  from  his  mother  if  she 
could  throw  any  light  on  the  matter.  She  at  once  informed 
him  that,  being  in  that  part  of  the  country  when  he  was 
about  eighteen  months  old,  she  had  gone  over  with  a  large 
party  and  had  taken  him  in  the  pannier  of  a  donkey ;  that 
the  elders  of  the  party,  having  brought  lunch  with  them,  had 
eaten  it  from  the  roof  of  the  gateway,  where  they  would  have 
been  seen  from  below,  whilst  he  had  been  left  on  the  ground 
with  the  attendants  and  donkeys.  It  may  be  worth  mention- 
ing, that  Mr.  Hansard  has  a  decidedly  artistic  temperament."- 

These  facts  of  normal  hypermnesia  are  still  more  curious 
than  the  much  better  established  facts  of  hypermnesia  from 
morbid  causes.  They  show  clearly,  on  the  one  hand,  the 
incalculable  power  of  resuscitation  of  the  impressions  re- 
ceived at  the  beginning  of  life,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
close  relation  which  exists  between  attention  and  memory, 
between  well  seeing  and  well  remembering.  And  seeing 
how  much  sensibility  influences  attention,  it  appeals  evident 
to  us  that  the  quality  of  the  memory  depends  still  more  on 
affectivity  than  on  intelligence.      I  am  led  to  believe  that 


^  Abercrombie,  Essay  on  Intellectual  PozaerSf  p. 
*  Carpenter,  Mental  Physiology,  p.  431. 


MEMORY.  127 

much  that  is  put  down  to  want  of  attention  is  in  reaHty  want, 
of  sensibility.  Is  it  from  want  of  attention  or  from  defective 
sensibility  that  old  people,  idiots,  and  young  children  have 
such  bizarre  and  scatter-brained  recollections  ?  Perhaps  it 
is  owing  to  both  these  causes.  The  feebleness  and  inter- 
mittence  with  which  impressions  are  transmitted  along  the 
peripheric  nerves,  and  with  which  they  strike  on  the  intel- 
lectual, motor,  and  sensory  centres,  in  all  these  cases,  neces- 
sarily cause  incomplete  and  disconnected  emotions,  ideas, 
judgments,  volitions,  and  movements.  However  this  may 
be,  the  debility  of  the  organs  in  old  people  in  their  dotage, 
and  young  children,  shows  itself  in  two  opposite  ways — dis- 
persion and  fixedness  of  ideas  and  sentiments.  There  is  a 
great  deal  of  both  in  the  period  of  infancy;  and  there  is  no 
doubt  that  the  babbling, — at  first  monotonous  but  gradually 
becoming  rather  varied, — which  babies  of  two  months  will 
repeat  several  times  a  day,  after  hearing  some  one  speak  or 
sing  near  them,  and  later  on  their  parrot-like  chatter,  and 
also  the  rambling  talk  of  old  people,  are  the  result  of  some 
dominant  recollections  which  pass  and  repass  in  their  minds, 
along  with  a  train  of  vaguer  reminiscences.  I  should  ex- 
plain in  the  same  manner  the  apparently  automatic  move- 
ments of  the  eyes,  arms,  and  legs,  which  young  children 
make  with  so  much  animation  and  so  little  signification,  in 
their  cradles,  in  their  nurse's  arms,  or  when  set  upright  on 
the  ground.  These  are  often  impulsions,  desires,  repulsions, 
ideas,  sensations,  and  feelings,  recollected  more  or  less  con- 
sciously, but  with  alternations  of  incoherence  and  impor- 
tunity, which  the  purely  instinctive  need  of  locomotion  does 
not  sufficiently  explain. 

This  intermittent  importunity  of  recollections  differs  from 
monomania,  in  that  it  is  generally  connected  with  objects 
that  are  present,  or  with  the  remembrance  of  familiar  objects. 
A  little  girl  of  eight  months,  when  she  has  been  sucking, 
makes  a  movement  with  her  arm  analogous  to  that  of  a 
person  ringing  a  bell ;  it  is  because  she  is  absorbed  in  the 
idea  of  a  little  bell  which  serves  her  as  a  plaything  ;  if  she 
has  it  in  her  hands,  she  makes  it  tinkle  for  a  few  minutes, 
carries  it  to  her  mouth,  rings  it  again,  and  then  throws  it 


128    THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

carelessly  away.  When  she  has  shaken  her  other  toys  about 
for  a  little  while  she  asks  for  her  bell  again  by  the  usual 
gesture,  and  she  will  repeat  the  same  manoeuvres  more 
than  twenty  times  in  half  an  hour,  if  she  is  indulged ;  this 
is  a  purely  reflex  habit.  One  day,  when  I  was  visiting  her 
parents,  I  imitated  the  little  girl's  movements  with  a  box 
which  was  very  brilliantly  coloured,  and  made  an  exciting 
noise  :  the  child  at  once  wanted  the  box,  and  shook  it  about 
with  evident  delight.  After  two  or  three  minutes  I  put  her 
little  bell  back  into  her  hand ;  she  shook  it  with  an  air  of 
indifference,  and  very  soon  threw  it  away.  I  then  gave  her 
the  box  again,  and  she  shook  it  about  for  a  long  time, 
crowing  with  delight.  This  box  remained  her  one  interest 
and  occupation  for  nearly  an  hour ;  the  little  bell  was  sup- 
planted. Another  fixed  idea,  analogous  it  is  true,  had  re- 
placed the  habitual  one.  This  temporary  possession  of  the 
mind  by  an  idea  is  most  noticeable  in  little  children  begin- 
ning to  talk ;  whether  it  be  that  names,  by  recalling  the 
objects,  give  them  a  clearer  idea  of  them  and  stronger 
recollection  or  desire,  or  that  the  mere  sound  of  words 
which  have  no  meaning  for  them  keep  their  brains  and 
vocal  organs  on  the  alert.  A  relation  of  mine,  when  fifteen 
months  old,  would  keep  on  incessantly  repeating  the  double 
sound  a-teau,  which  represented  to  him  the  idea  of  boats 
{bateaux),  which  he  had  seen  on  a  river,  and  which  had  made 
him  wild  with  delight. 

Some  months  afterwards  his  vocabulary  was  augmented 
by  the  following  jargon,  ^^Cote  not,  toiite  vilai;  cote  Man,  toute 
jolte."  This  black  cocotte  and  this  white  cocotte  were  two 
hens,  which  he  used  to  go  and  look  at  two  or  three  hundred 
times  a  day  in  their  yard  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden;  the 
white  hen  was  very  gentle,  but  the  black  one  sometimes 
pecked  his  fingers  when  taking  the  food  he  brought  them. 
The  boats  and  the  hens  were  at  this  time  his  absorbing 
preoccupations.  Some  months  later,  having  made  a  railway 
journey,  he  used  to  talk  every  day  of  the  locomotives,  the 
carriages,  the  whistle,  and  the  steam  :  mi7ifer  had  supplanted 
the  boats  and  the  cocottes  in  his  brain  and  his  conversation. 
One   of  the  most  debated  questions  of  the  day,  and  one 


-      MEMORY.  129 

interesting  alike  to  psychologists  and  pedagogists,  is  whether 
it  is  possible  in  early  infancy  to  form  an  estimate  of  the  in- 
tellectual faculties  of  a  child,  and  especially  of  its  memory 
— memory,  i.e.^  in  the  sense  of  reproduction  of  ideas.  Gall, 
and  many  others  after  him,  have  inclined  to  the  affirmative. 
This  savant  considered  that  large  prominent  eyes  were  the 
index  of  a  facile  memory  (always,  be  it  understood,  a 
memory  for  ideas).  I  believe  I  have  also  heard  thick  eye- 
brows mentioned  as  signs  of  a  like  facility,  and  especially 
of  tenacity  of  memory,  or  at  least  eyebrows  which  are  close 
together,  and  which  also  denote  jealousy.  My  personal 
observations  do  not  warrant  me  in  either  adopting  or  reject- 
ing any  of  these  theories. 

But  I  hope  that  the  study  of  the  connection  between  , 
physiognomy  and  transmitted  faculties,  will  furnish  the 
means  of  determining,  even  before  children  can  speak, 
whether  they  have  good  or  bad  memories,  and  that  we 
shall  thus  be  able  to  improve  the  bad  memories  by  exercise 
and  training.  Then,  too,  it  will  be  possible,  and  very  useful, 
to  be  able  from  the  first  months  of  life  to  distinguish 
between  the  original  aptitudes  of  the  memory  and  those 
acquired  under  the  influence  of  various  circumstances,  to 
mark  the  union  and  the  conflict  of  the  one  with  the  other, 
in  a  word,  to  determine  how  far  exercise  and  education 
modify  the  memory,  as  a  whole  and  in  its  special  adapta- 
tions. 

I  must  particularly  insist  on  the  error  of  considering 
memory  as  an  intellectual  faculty  having  different  adapta- 
tions, and  of  believing,  for  instance,  that  memory  for  senti- 
ments is  one  of  these  adaptations.  The  truth  is,  that  there 
exists  in  every  human  being,  not  one,  but  several  memories. 
Not  only  do  we  recollect  our  past  sentiments  and  affections, 
without  experiencing  them  over  again,  but  sentiment  only 
persists  on  condition  of  keeping  its  place  in  the  memory. 
"  The  most  affectionate  heart,"  says  Chateaubriand,  "  would 
lose  its  tenderness,  if  it  did  not  remember."  We  can  say 
that,  in  regard  to  sensibility  and  the  emotional  life,  each  one 
has  its  memories,  more  or  less  marked  and  tenacious.  In 
the  same  way  that  each  sense,  and  each  intellectual  faculty, 

K 


130   THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

has  its  memory,  or  its  associations  of  memory,  more  or  less 
energetic  according  to  the  individual  organisation,  so  all 
sentiments  and  all  combinations  of  sentiment  have  their 
memories,  which  are  unequally  distributed  among  men. 
Caesar,  it  is  said,  never  forgot  injuries  :  some  other  people 
forget  neither  the  good  nor  the  evil  which  is  done  to  them, 
and  others  again  only  forget  the  good. 

This  mode  of  conceiving  of  emotional  memory,  which 
throws  a  new  light  on  the  genesis  of  passions  and  desires, 
enables  us  in  many  cases  to  penetrate  to  the  bottom  of  the 
infant  soul.  Underlying  all  the  sentiments  and  tendencies 
which  manifest  themselves  at  given  moments  of  life  are  the 
tendencies  and  sentiments  inherited  from  our  ancestors, 
who  have  exercised  and  developed  them  before  us ;  and  the 
same  also  may  be  said  of  our  pains  and  our  pleasures  :  we 
know  not  how  much  of  the  past  enters  into  the  joys  and 
sorrows  of  the  present.  The  impressions  of  our  emotional 
life  people  our  souls  and  our  sensoriums,  and  are  always 
ready  to  be  revived  afresh,  whether  with  or  without  our 
consciousness.  It  is  the  same  with  past  emotions  as  with 
past  ideas  :  consciousness  only  reveals  an  infinitesimal  part 
of  them.  This  is  what  the  poet  Musset  expresses  with  so 
much  delicacy  in  the  following  lines  : — 

"  Et  Ton  songe  a  tout  ce  qu'on  aime 
Sans  le  savoir." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    ASSOCIATION    OF    PSYCHICAL    STATES. 

I. 

ASSOCIATION. 

Association  is  the  state  of  dynamical  connection  which 
accompanies  the  production  and  reproduction,  not  only  of 
the  facts  of  intellectual  and  moral  life,  but  of  all  the  mental, 
muscular,  and  nervous  facts  which  are  co-ordinated  if  not 
altogether  brought  about  in  certain  fixed  regions  of  the 
brain.  Association  is  not,  properly  speaking,  a  special 
faculty,  like  sensibility,  emotion,  and  motor  activity.  It 
is  one  of  the  apparent  or  underlying  forms  of  all  organic 
or  psychic  manifestations.  Everything  is  continuous  and 
bound  together,  in  our  perceptions,  our  affections,  our 
thoughts,  and  our  volitions.  We  have  already  seen  that  all 
our  distinct  ideas  of  objects  are  equivalent  to  syntheses  or 
associations  of  ideas  arrived  at  synthetically.  These  ab- 
stractions and  groups  of  perceptions,  which  are  found  in  the 
apparently  simplest  ideas,  explain  the  nature  and  conditions 
of  psychic  life,  which  is  a  series  of  mental  states  reproduced 
and  capable  of  combining  with  other  series  of  the  same  kind 
and  with  impressions  of  the  moment  inserted  in  the  com- 
plex woof  of  former  combinations. 

It  is  impossible  to  know  at  what  moment  of  the  foetal  or 
intra-uterine  life,  associations  of  mental  states,  properly  so- 
called,  begin.  Some  have  certainly  been  formed  long 
before  the  time  when  we  first  observe  them.      In  fact,  what 


132   THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

external  signs  could  reveal  the  numerous  impressions  which 
must  associate  themselves  together  to  produce  even  a  hazy 
knowledge  of  the  simplest  object,  such  as  the  feeding  bottle, 
the  nurse's  face,  etc.  ? 

M.  Ribot  vividly  describes  all  that  is  involved  in  a  recol- 
lection which  consciousness  presents  to  us  as  simple. 

"The  memory  of  an  apple  is  necessarily  a  weakened 
form  of  the  perception  of  an  apple.  What  does  this  per- 
ception suppose  ?  A  modification  of  the  complex  structure 
of  the  retina,  transmission  by  the  optic  nerve  through  the 
corpora  geniculata  and  the  tubercula  quadrigemina  to  the 
cerebral  ganglia  (optic  tract  ? ),  then  through  the  white  sub- 
stance to  the  cortex.  This  supposes  the  activity  of  many 
widely  separated  elements.  But  this  is  by  no  means  all. 
It  is  not  a  question  of  a  simple  sensation  of  colour.  We 
see,  or  imagine,  the  apple  as  a  solid  object  having  a 
spherical  form.  These  conceptions  result  from  the  ex- 
quisite muscular  sensibility  of  our  visual  apparatus  and  from 
its  movements.  Now,  the  movements  of  the  eye  are  regu- 
lated by  several  nerves — the  sympathetic,  the  oculo-motor, 
and  its  branches.  Each  of  these  nerves  has  its  own  termin- 
ation, and  is  connected  by  a  devious  course  with  the  outer 
cerebral  layer,  where  the  motor  intuitions,  according  to 
Maudsley,  are  formed.  We  simply  indicate  outlines.  For 
further  details  the  reader  should  consult  standard  works  on 
anatomy  and  physiology.  But  we  have  given  an  idea  of  the 
prodigious  number  of  nervous  filaments  and  distinct  com- 
munities of  cells  scattered  through  the  different  parts  of  the 
cerebro-spinal  axis,  which  serve  as  a  basis  for  the  psychical 
state  known  as  the  memory  of  an  apple,  and  which  the 
double  illusion  of  consciousness  and  language  leads  us  to 
consider  as  a  single  fact.''^ 

Under  these  circumstances,  then,  we  cannot  hope  to 
"  seize  in  the  act "  the  first  associations  formed  in  a  child's 
mind  between  the  different  perceptions — visual,  muscular, 
and  motive,  auditive,  or  tactile,  or  between  these  percep- 

^  Ribot,  Maladies  de  la  Memoire.  See  Eng.  Trans.  (Internat. 
Scient.  Series),  pp.  42,  43. 


ASSOCIATION.  133 

tions  and  different  sensory  and  emotional  conditions  :  these 
facts  go  on  in  the  mysterious  depths  of  consciousness,  if 
even  they  do  not  belong  in  part  to  unconscious  cerebra- 
tion.    We  must  be  content  to  point  out  the  most  apparent.    Jk 

Darwin  does  not  notice  any  positive  manifestation, of^  ^ 
ideas  in  a  child's  mind  before  the  age  of  five  months.  ^iFor  vi 
instance,  speaking  of  one  of  his  children  at  this  age,  he  V  ^ 
says,  "  As  soon  as  his  hat  and  cloak  had  been  put  on,  he  - 
became  very  cross  if  not  taken  out  at  once.  At  five 
months  his  eyes  would  seek  his  nurse  when  he  heard  her 
name  pronounced."  This  date,  which  to  me  seems  tardy, 
is  much  nearer  the  truth,  however,  than  that  of  ten  months, 
indicated  by  M.  Taine  for  the  appearance  of  the  same 
phenomenon  in  his  daughter.  Tiedemann,  rightly  or 
wrongly,  notes  the  beginning  of  the  association  of  ideas 
two  days  after  birth.  If  any  one  placed  his  son  "  on  his  side 
in  a  position  to  suck,  or  if  he  felt  a  soft  hand  on  his  face, 
he  became  quiet  and  felt  about  for  the  breast."  "  Here," 
writes  his  father,  '' association  of  ideas  is  evident,  the  feeling 
of  a  particular  position  or  of  a  soft  hand  awaking  the  idea 
of  sucking  at  the  breast.  On  the  26th  of  January,  when 
five  months  old,  the  growing  desire  to  learn  manifested  itself 
more  plainly.  The  nurse,  whenever  the  weather  permitted, 
took  him  out  into  the  street,  which  delighted  him  beyond 
measure  ;  and  in  spite  of  the  cold,  he  was  always  very  eager 
for  this  event.  The  child  soon  learnt  to  notice,  that  when 
the  nurse  took  up  her  cloak  it  was  a  signal  for  going  out ; 
and  he  smiled  and  crowed,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  tears, 
every  time  she  performed  the  operation." 

When  I  put  two  little  kittens  (three  days  old)  which  I 
am  rearing,  on  my  hand  in  a  standing  position,  they  will 
remain  some  seconds  without  stirring,  as  if  enjoying  the 
heat  of  my  hand ;  but  soon,  the  contact  of  my  skin  not 
affording  them  the  same  sensation  as  that  of  the  body  of 
their  mother,  they  begin  to  shake  their  heads,  show  signs  of 
uneasiness,  move  about  on  their  little  tottering  paws,  and 
try  to  suck  that  portion  of  my  hand  which  has  possibly 
reminded  them  of  their  mother's  breast.  But  as  the  sucking 
produces  no  result,  after  a  few  fruidess  efforts  they  become 


134   THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

more  and  more  uneasy ;  they  do  not  feel  at  home ;  they 
liave  begun  to  realize  the  difference  between  my  hand  and 
their  mother's  warm,  soft  body,  and  they  begin  to  pine  for 
their  familiar  shelter,  and  to  cry  out  for  it  loudly. 

These  few  facts,  taken  at  random,  show  us  how  very  early, 
both  in  young  children  and  young  animals,  the  exercise  of 
this  physical  and  intellectual  faculty,  formerly  incorrectly 
called  association  of  ideas,  but  which  is  really  the  associa- 
bility  of  all  the  actions  of  the  nervous  system,  either  v/ith 
their  congeners  or  with  their  neighbours,  comes  into  play. 

All  the  first  manifestations  of  animal  sensibility  testify 
to  the  faculty  which  the  mind  has  of  associating  and  blend- 
ing in  one  the  different  series  of  homogeneous  impressions 
which  it  receives.  A  baby  fifteen  days  old,  who  had  just 
gone  to  sleep,  and  in  whose  mouth  I  put  a  feeding-bottle 
filled  with  plain  water,  sucked  it  for  a  few  minutes  and 
then  began  to  make  faces,  to  open  its  mouth,  and  finally  to 
cry.  The  same  child,  who  was  lying  awake  in  its  mother's 
arms,  was  taken  up  in  the  same  position  by  its  uncle,  and 
began  at  once  to  whimper.  A  child  two  months  old,  who 
already  smiled  consciously  at  his  nurse,  would  allow  himself 
to  be  fed  by  another  nurse,  his  own  being  close  by.  These 
examples  prove  that  homogeneous  sensations  were  asso- 
ciated in  their  minds  to  such  a  point  that  they  recognised 
them  when  they  were  reproduced,  and  that,  not  finding 
them  when  they  expect  them,  they  suffer  in  consequence, 
in  spite  of  the  feebleness  of  their  powers  of  comparison. 

Herbert  Spencer  gives  to  this  remarkable  phenomenon 
the  name  of  integration  of  the  sensations.  "  A  colour,  the 
moment  it  is  perceived,  not  only  irresistibly  aggregates 
with  the  class  of  feelings  that  originate  on  the  outer  surface 
and  imply  outer  stimuli,  but  also  with  the  sub-class  of 
visual  sensations,  and  cannot  be  forced  into  any  other 
sub-class.  While  being  recognised,  a  sound  falls  simul- 
taneously into  the  general  assemblage  of  feelings  derived 
from  the  senses  which  hold  converse  with  the  external 
world,  and  also  into  the  more  special  assemblage  of  feelings 
distinguished  as  auditory ;  and  no  effort  will  separate  it  from 
this  special  assemblage.     And  to  say  a  smell   cannot  be 


ASSOCIATION.  135 

thought  of  as  a  colour  or  a  sound,  is  to  say  that  it  associates 
itself  indissolubly  with  previously-experienced  smells.  "^        • 

On  the  other  hand,  "  these  simultaneous  impressions, — 
optic,  olfactory,  acoustic, — received  at  the  same  moment,  and 
in  several  circumscribed  localities  at  the  same  time,  con- 
stitute a  series  of  contemporaneous  souvenirs^  which  are 
created  and  implanted  in  the  memory;  and  henceforth 
those  vibrations  which  were  born  together,  and  were  simul- 
taneously conceived,  will  represent  in  the  series  of  reminis- 
cences, a  definite  group,  of  which  the  elements,  united  by 
the  bonds  of  a  mysterious  federation,  will  all  live  with  the 
same  life,  anastomose  one  with  another,  and  recall  one 
another  as  soon  as  one  link  of  the  chain  is  struck."- 

My  two  kittens,  which  the  mother  had  left  to  go  and  lap  up 
a  saucer  of  milk  I  had  put  down  for  her,  after  tumbling  over 
and  over  for  a  few  minutes,  at  last  cuddled  together  to  go 
to  sleep.  Suddenly  the  mother  returned  and  sprang  lightly 
into  the  box  without  touching  her  kittens.  Instantly,  how- 
ever, they  sat  up,  as  if  moved  by  a  spring ;  the  slight  noise 
which  the  mother  had  made  in  getting  back  into  the  box, 
and  the  movement  which  she  imparted  to  it  and  which  they 
had  felt,  produced  auditory  and  muscular  impressions  which 
became  associated  in  their  brain  with  the  idea  of  her  pre- 
sence; and  to  the  idea  of  her  presence  was  joined  the  desire 
to  suck,  for  they  immediately  set  to  work  at  this  operation. 

When  six  weeks  old,  these  same  cats,  having  made 
acquaintance  with  raw  meat,  precipitated  themselves,  one 
after  the  other,  on  a  ball  of  red  paper,  which  they  had 
taken  for  a  piece  of  meat,  and  were  beginning  t6  eat.  The 
sensation  of  a  particular  colour  was  associated  in  their 
minds  with  the  idea  of  food,  and  with  the  movements  of 
absorption  and  prehension,  which  they  already  produced  by 
reflex  action. 

A  little  child,  of  four  months  and  a  half,  was  in  its 
mother's  arms ;   its  nurse,  who  had  just  returned  after  a 


^  Herbert  Spencer,  Principles  of  Psychology ^  p.  255. 
^  Luys,  Le  Cei'veau  et  ses    Fonctions.      See  Eng.  Trans.  (Internat. 
Sclent.  Series),  p.  154. 


136   THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

short  holiday,  before  coming  into  the  room,  put  her  mouth 
to  the  key-hole  and  in  her  most  coaxing  voice  called  little 
Paul  three  or  four  times.  The  latter  first  raised  his  head, 
then  turned  to  the  right  and  the  left,  and  cast  questioning 
looks  at  his  mother ;  the  nurse  went  over  the  comedy  again, 
laughing  rather  loud.  Paul  could  not  stand  it  any  longer, 
he  held  out  his  little  arms,  and  made  impatient  starts  of 
joy,  desire,  and  vexation ;  and  was  on  the  point  of  tears, 
when  his  mother,  to  spare  him  unnecessary  teasing,  called 
in  the  nurse.  Thus  the  sound  of  his  nurse's  voice  and 
laugh  had  become  very  early  associated  with  the  idea  of 
her  person,  with  the  pleasure  of  her  presence,  of  the  need 
of  seeing  her  when  she  spoke,  and  with  instinctive  move- 
ments to  be  taken  in  her  arms. 

A  little  child  a  year  old  could  not  see  a  hat  or  bonnet, 
or  any  article  which  appeared  to  be  a  covering  for  the  head, 
without  saying,  '"'' Mene^mene^''  {j)romener),  by  which  he  meant, 
that  some  one  was  to  take  him  by  the  hand  and  lead  him 
out  for  a  walk.  Whilst  playing  one  day  at  a  table,  he  took 
a  little  round  mat  and  put  it  on  his  head,  calling  out 
''  Mene^  menL"  He  said  the  same  thing  also  when  his 
aunt  touched  an  umbrella.  The  word  ^^peudu  "  [perdu)  is 
associated  in  his  mind  with  the  idea  of  any  object  that  he 
sees  fall  down,  and  which  he  throws  away,  or  which  he 
cannot  see  when  he  hears  it  talked  about.  One  day  he 
took  my  hand  with  both  his,  stroked  it,  shook  it  about  like 
one  of  his  playthings,  and  then,  the  fancy  seizing  him  to 
throw  it  on  the  ground,  he  pushed  it  away  and  let  go  of  it, 
saying,  ^^Peudu^'  and  looking  on  the  floor  to  see  where  it 
had  gone.  If  a  flower  is  given  him  to  smell,  he  sniffs  it 
for  a  few  moments,  and  then  immediately  offers  it  to  some 
one  else  to  smell.  When  he  is  walking  in  the  garden  by 
the  flower-beds,  he  seizes  hold  of  the  stalks  of  flowers,  drags 
them  towards  him,  and  gives  whatever  remains  in  his  hand 
to  some  one  to  smell.  The  sight  of  the  smoke  which  I 
puff  out  of  my  lips  when  indulging  in  a  cigar,  causes  him  to 
make  a  very  curious  movement  of  expiration  resembling 
the  action  of  a  smoker. 

But   smoke   of   all   sorts  attracts    him,  and  makes   him 


ASSOCIATION.  137 

say  ^''Mene ; "  and  when  he  is  near  it,  it  it  is  I  who  am  with 
him,  he  looks  at  me  with  a  happy  expression,  and  makes 
this  movement  of  the  lips  which  his  grandfather  has  taught 
him,  and  which  I  have  already  noticed  in  another  child. 

Thus  we  find  in  young  children  the  same  kinds  of  associ- 
ations as  in  adults.  There  is  not  one  of  the  combinations  of 
associations  which  have  been  studied  so  carefully  by  psycho- 
logists, of  which  we  cannot  find  at  least  a  faint  foreshadow- 
ing in  a  child  of  six  or  seven  months.  We  can  also  discern 
in  little  children  a  sketchy  idea  of  the  relations  of  sequence, 
which  is  the  principle  of  the  idea  of  time.  A  child  eight 
months  old,  to  whom  its  mother  held  out  her  arms  while  ad- 
vancing toward  it,  stopped  for  a  moment,  and  then  held  out 
his  arms ;  she  called  him,  but  did  not  yet  go  up  to  him ;  he 
gesticulated  with  his  whole  body  and  began  to  scream  ;  she 
advanced  a  little  nearer  and  he  pushed  himself  forward  as 
if  to  hasten  the  meeting.  Thus  movements,  begun  at  a 
certain  distance  and  in  his  direction,  were  associated  in  his 
mind  with  the  idea  of  continuation. 

A  child  of  eleven  months  warbles,  as  a  sort  of  accom- 
paniment, so  to  say,  when  his  nurse  sings  a  simple  little  air, 
which  he  is  very  fond  of,  and  which  she  has  sung  to  him 
ever  since  his  birth.  If  the  nurse  stops  in  the  middle,  or 
does  not  quite  finish  the  song,  the  child  looks  at  her  with 
astonishment  and  stops  his  warbling ;  if  the  nurse  goes  on 
with  the  song  where  she  left  off,  the  child  evinces  great 
delight.  These  associations  of  successive  sensations,  multi- 
plied to  infinity,  prepare  for  the  formation  of  the  abstract 
and  general  idea  of  time,  which  develops  so  slowly  in 
young  children,  even  after  they  have  begun  to  talk.  A 
child  six  months  old  will  cry  for  his  bottle  as  if  he  were 
starving,  even  if  he  has  had  it  a  little  while  before,  as  soon 
as  day  begins  to  dawn.  The  mother  says,  "  He  guesses 
that  it  is  time  for  his  breakfast."  No,  but  the  return  of 
light  is  associated  in  his  mind  with  the  idea  of  sucking  his 
bottle,  and  this  is  why  the  morning  twilight  provokes  in 
him  the  factitious  need  of  a  meal.  We  may  notice  this 
kind  of  association,  and  consequently  a  faint  rudiment  of 
the  concrete  ideas  of  time,  in  the  supposed  instinct  which 


138    THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS  OF   CHILDHOOD. 

causes  even  very  young  animals  to  know  the  hours  of  their 
masters'  or  their  friends'  meals.  Who  has  not  seen  dogs, 
cats,  and  birds  put  in  a  punctual  appearance  in  gardens 
and  houses,  at  the  hours  when  meals  are  going  on.  It  is 
an  indisputable  fact  that  signs  analogous  to  those  which  give 
us  our  ideas  of  time,  that  is  to  say,  successions  of  impres- 
sions, indicate  to  these  dumb  creatures  the  opportune  mo- 
ment for  returning  to  their  restaurants. 

The  associations  of  resemblance  are  not  less  clearly 
expressed  by  the  language  of  action  in  little  children.  A 
boy  of  nine  months  is  opposite  me.  His  grandmother  has 
just  pronounced  the  word  papa.  The  child  smiles  at  her 
then  at  me,  and  holds  out  his  arms  to  me.  The  child 
certainly  did  not  take  me  for  his  father,  even  at  first  sight ; 
but  certain  general  resemblances  between  me  and  the  father 
had  awakened,  at  the  name  of  papa,  the  ideas,  feelings,  and 
actions  which  had  for  a  long  time  been  associated  with  the 
presence  of  his  father,  and  which  caused  the  child  to  smile 
at  me,  to  hold  out  his  arms,  to  utter  little  cries  of  joy,  to 
embrace  me  and  let  himself  be  fondled  by  me. 

It  is  by  associations  of  this  kind  that  little  children  learn 
very  early  to  see  well-known  people  or  things  in  other 
people  or  things,  resembling  them  in  some  way.  In  a  very 
remarkable  article, — though,  unhappily  for  the  study  in  which 
we  are  engaged,  the  observations  are  not  taken  till  after 
the  age  of  three  months, — M.  Taine  notes  the  following 
facts,  "She  sees  her  grandfather  everyday,  for  they  show 
her  his  portrait  drawn  in  crayon,  much  smaller  than  life,  but 
very  like  him.  When  any  one  says  to  her,  "  Where  is 
grandpapa  ?"  she  turns  towards  this  portrait  and  smiles. 
But  before  her  grandmother's  portrait,  which  is  miuch  less 
like,  she  shows  no  sign  of  recognition. 

It  is  this  association  of  like  ideas  which  suggests  to  little 
children  those  comparisons  which  we  often  take  for  abstract 
generalizations,  and  which  cause  the  little  chatter-boxes  to 
talk  of  everything  a  propos  of  everything,  their  vivid  and 
inexperienced  imagination  showing  them  everywhere  the 
known  in  the  unknown,  the  like  in  the  unlike.  It  is  this 
imagination    also    which  makes  them  afterwards  seize  so 


ASSOCIATION.  139 

vividly  and  be  so  startled  at  contrasts  in  objects  and  actions 
in  which  at  first  sight  they  thought  they  saw  similarity.  It 
is  this  which  suggests  to  them  analogies  of  all  sorts,  which 
to  us  seem  sometimes  so  strange  and  unaccountable,  but 
which  are  so  natural  to  them,  though  at  the  same  time  they 
have  only  an  external  signification  for  them.  For  instance, 
a  little  girl  who  had  seen  some  cockchafers  on  a  tree,  asked, 
"  When  would  the  cockchafers  begin  to  bud  ?"  Again,  it 
is  the  association  of  analogous  sounds  which  causes  children's 
strong  liking  for  alliteration  and  consonances ;  this  taste 
first  of  all  shows  itself  in  meaningless  repetitions  and  later 
by  their  delight  in  music  and  rhymes. 

I  do  not  think  it  is  possible  to  determine  in  children  who 
cannot  yet  talk,  the  existence  of  associations  based  on  the 
law  of  contrast.  Is  it  not  possible  that  for  the  fusion  of 
opposite  ideas  a  greater  degree  of  intellectual  development 
and  a  greater  power  of  comparison  is  needed  than  a  child 
of  hardly  a  year  old  possesses?  Children  pass  from  the 
easy  to  the  easy,  from  like  to  like,  before  advancing  from 
the  easy  to  the  more  difficult,  from  like  to  difference,  from 
analogy  to  contrast. 

Besides  these  connections,  which  philosophers  have  en- 
titled accidental  or  fortuitous,  there  are  others  which  they 
have  distinguished  by  the  name  of  logical  or  rational,  such  as 
the  relations  of  cause  to  consequence,  of  means  to  ends,  of 
signs  to  the  things  signified.  I  wish  merely  to  remind  my 
readers  of  this  order  of  classification,  without  attempting  to 
discuss  it.  I  shall  confine  myself  to  remarking  that,  the 
laws  of  nature  and  intelligence  being  given,  there  is  not  one 
of  the  different  kinds  of  association  enumerated  above  which 
does  not  necessarily  exist  in  every  intelligence.  The  proof 
of  this  is,  that  all  or  nearly  all  the  forms  of  association 
called  logical,  exhibit  themselves,  as  well  as  the  others,  in 
young  infants.  What  baby  is  there  of  three  or  four  months, 
who,  having  burnt  itself  with  a  candle  or  the  fire,  or  what 
child  of  ten  months,  who,  having  had  a  nasty  dose  of 
medicine,  will  not  recoil  instinctively  at  the  sight  of  these 
objects,  which  remind  them  of  the  pain  or  disgust  they  have 
caused.     Here  we  have  the  concrete  idea  of  cause  asso- 


I40   THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

ciated  with  the  concrete  idea  of  effect.  The  relation  of  the 
means  to  the  end,  which  in  children's  minds  is  confounded 
with  that  of  cause  to  effect  or  succession,  is  a  matter  of 
daily  practical  application  at  the  earliest  age.  The  sight  of 
their  food  and  toys,  of  the  people  and  objects  who  please 
them  and  gratify  their  desires,  or  the  reverse,  remind  them 
at  every  moment  that  they  are  the  instruments  of  their 
pleasure  or  their  pain.  When,  at  the  age  of  three  months, 
they  cry  for  their  food,  or  to  be  rocked  to  sleep,  they  already 
possess  a  concrete  idea  of  a  means  tending  to  an  end  ;  and 
what  is  more,  they  utilize  this  knowledge  in  their  own  way. 
They  know  well  enough,  long  before  they  can  speak,  what 
such  a  sound  or  such  a  modulation  of  the  voice  means, 
what  is  the  signification  of  this  attitude  or  that  gesture  ;  in  a 
word,  the  sign  and  the  thing  signified  are  associated  in  their 
young  minds.  As  to  associations  established  concerning 
the  relationship  of  genus  to  species,  we  should  not  be  able 
to  find  more  than  very  vague  rudiments  of  these  in  Httle 
children  whose  power  of  generalization  is  always  rather 
feeble,  needing,  as  it  does,  for  full  play,  a  fairly  large  amount 
of  experience  combined  with  considerable  progress  in  the 
acquisition  of  speech. 

M.  L.  Ferri,  in  an  interesting  article  on  The  First  Three 
Years  of  Childhood^  has  expressed  his  opinion  that  the 
intelligence  of  a  child  exists  in  a  degree  and  is  exercised  in 
a  sphere  proportioned  to  the  degree  of  experience  of  which 
the  child  is  capable  before  it  has  acquired  any  abstract 
notions ;  and  that  human  inteUigence,  when  it  is  only 
founded  on  the  sensitive  associations  common  alike  to  men 
and  animals,  consists  essentially  in  an  intuitive  activity,  which 
distinguishes  and  combines,  affirms  and  denies  the  connec- 
tion either  of  sensations  or  of  things,  and  is  not  limited  to, 
a  passive  reception  of  corresponding  associations.  This  is 
also  my  opinion.  I  think  it  is  the  natural  organization  only 
which  predisposes  a  child  to  modify  certain  actual  ex. 
periences  according  to  the  dynamic  impulsions  which  an. 

^  In  the  Filosofia  delle  Scuole  Italiane,   Oct.   1879.     See  in  Rrotte 
Philos-t  April  1880,  the  review  of  this  article. 


ASSOCIATION.  141 

terior  experiences  have  deposited  in  its  organs  under  the  title 
of  latent  energy.  This  would  still  only  indicate  a  greater  or 
less  facility  of  accommodation  in  the  young  being  to  new 
experiences,  and  perhaps  the  necessity  for  him  of  certain 
associations  which  are  imposed  on  him  by  his  specific 
organization,  as  much  as  by  the  nature  of  things.  At  any 
rate,  I  agree  with  M.  Taine  that  the  associations  of  ideas 
formed  in  the  mind  of  a  child  of  ten  months  do  not  go 
beyond  the  scope  of  animal  intelligence ;  but  this  may  be 
because  I  grant  more  to  the  latter  than  does  M.  Taine,  or 
even  Darwin,  at  any  rate  in  the  above-mentioned  treatise. 
Darwin  sees  a  marked  difference  between  the  aptitude  of  a 
little  child  and  that  of  the  most  intelligent  adult  animal,  in 
forming  associations  due  to  instruction  and  associations 
spontaneously  produced.  I  cannot  subscribe  to  this.  Does 
the  dog  who  runs  from  the  bottom  of  the  garden  on  hearing 
the  word  sugar,  show  a  faculty  of  association  inferior  to 
that  of  a  child  of  six  or  seven  months,  who  moves  his  head 
from  right  to  left  when  one  says  to  him,  "  Shake  your  head  "  ? 
I  think  not. 

I  have  had  cited  to  me  an  example  of  association  furnished 
by  a  little  French  girl  in  Vienna.  She  was  two  and  a  half 
years  old,  when  she  heard  related  a  detailed  account  of  the 
assassination  of  the  Czar  Alexander  II.  All  the  events  of 
the  narrative  were  firmly  imprinted  on  her  mind ;  but  she 
confused  the  assassins  of  the  Emperor  with  the  men  who 
swept  away  the  snow  on  the  scene  of  the  assassination.  A 
fortnight  later,  snow  was  falling  in  Vienna;  the  window 
being  open,  the  child  looked  out  in  the  street  and  saw 
several  men  occupied  in  sweeping  away  the  snow.  Suddenly 
she  cried  out,  "  Oh,  wicked  men,  they  have  killed  the 
Emperor  !  me  like  to  see  poor  Emperor  buried  ! "  But 
why  should  we  refuse  to  believe  that  animals  which  cannot 
speak  are  not  susceptible  of  analogous  associations  ?  Here 
is  an  example  showing  how  durable  connected  recollections 
may  be  in  certain  animals.  "  A  turtle-dove,  which  had  been 
very  carefully  brought  up  by  a  lady  from  London,  was  given 
to  an  officer  who  carried  it  away  with  him  on  an  expedition. 
The  bird  remained  absent  a  year  and  a  half.     When  it  was 


142    THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

brought  back  after  this  interval  of  time,  it  heard  its  former 
mistress  speak  before  it  saw  her.  At  the  first  sound  of  her 
voice  it  showed  signs  of  extraordinary  impatience,  and  flut- 
tered about  the  cage,  a  prey  to  excessive  emotions."  ^ 

Philosophers  have  often  remarked  the  influence  of  asso- 
ciation of  ideas  on  sentiment.  Thus,  the  word  ma?mna  will 
make  a  child  smile,  whereas  that  of  papa  will  only  make 
him  turn  round  quickly,  to  see  the  person  whom  he  loves 
with  more  of  respect  than  tenderness.  In  general,  the 
habits  founded  on  associations  which  are  the  most  frequently 
repeated  appear  to  be  the  strongest.  But  there  are  cases 
where  the  vivacity  of  the  emotions  engenders  associations 
suddenly,  and,  in  consequence,  establishes  lasting  habits. 
Locke  speaks  of  a  little  girl  whom  her  mother  was  obliged 
to  whip,  in  order  to  cure  her  of  the  bad  habits  she  had 
learnt  from  her  nurse.  A  single  day's  correction  sufficed. 
Painful  affections,  as  we  can  easily  understand,  have  an 
influence  proportioned  to  their  vivacity,  on  our  moral  habits 
especially.  Hence  those  who  have  the  bringing  up  of 
children  should  keep  them  as  much  as  possible  out  of  the 
way  of  terrible  spectacles  and  alarming  tales. 

In  order  to  well  understand  the  mechanism  of  thought  in 
children,  and  to  be  able  to  interpret  at  every  turn  their 
gestures,  words,  and  actions,  we  must  not  overlook  that 
law  of  association  which  causes  memory  to  touch  over  and 
over  again  on  the  culminating  points  of  a  series, — an 
abbreviative  process  which  may  be  succeeded  by  the  detailed 
analysis  of  intermediate  and  secondary  points.  This 
tendency  of  the  mind,  which  enables  the  adult  to  construct 
artificial  chains  of  ideas,  manifests  itself  spontaneously  in 
children,  and  it  is  possible  to  follow  the  formation  of  the 
chain  up  to  a  certain  point.  I  will  cite  one  among  a  thou- 
sand examples.  A  lady  had  gone  to  call  on  a  friend  and 
had  taken  with  her  her  little  boy  two  years  and  four  months 
old.  After  the  child  had  well  inspected  every  corner  of  the 
drawing-room,  he  slipped  through  an  open  door  into  a 
little  passage  which  led  into  an  adjoining  room.     The  door 

1  Frank  Tluckland,  Curiosilies  of  Natural  History,  vol.  i.,  p.  183.  . 


ASSOCIATION.  143 

• 
of  this  room  being  half-open,  he  went  a  few  steps  into  it, 
and  in  so  doing  upset  a  chair.  This  noise  awoke  the 
husband  of  the  lady,  who,  being  either  tired  or  indisposed, 
had  lain  down  on  his  bed  in  his  clothes  with  his  nightcap 
on  his  head.  "Who  is  there?  "  cried  the  sleeper,  disturbed 
in  his  slumbers.  The  sudden  sight  of  this  bizarre  apparition 
caused  the  child  inexpressible  fear  and  surprise.  He  ran 
out  of  the  room,  took  refuge  with  his  mother,  and  pulled 
her  dress  repeatedly,  as  if  to  make  her  come  away.  Soon 
after  the  mother  went  home  with  the  child ;  and  the  whole 
way  along  the  child  talked  of  nothing  but  Pierrot  whom  he 
had  seen  lying  down,  and  who  had  frightened  him  very  much. 
More  than  three  months  later,  when  this  lady  came  to  see 
the  child's  mother,  the  child  asked  her  abruptly,  "  How  is 
Pierrot  ?  Is  he  sleeping  on  his  bed  ?  "  The  lady  answered 
that  he  slept  in  his  cage  on  a  perch,  and  not  in  a  bed.  "  Is 
Pierrot  naughty  ?  he  frightened  me  very  much."  The  lady 
thought  he  was  speaking  of  her  sparrow.  Another  time, 
she  answered  him  that  Pierrot  was  dead.  "  Then,"  said  the 
child,  ''he  is  no  longer  in  bed."  The  lady  still  thought  he 
meant  the  bird,  which  had  just  died.  The  child's  mother 
burst  out  laughing,  and  explained  the  misunderstanding. 
These  were  the  salient  points  of  that  association  of  images 
and  ideas  so  alarming  to  the  child.  To  all  these  prominent 
rocollections  there  belonged  a  number  of  others,  which 
came  back  capriciously  to  the  child  when  he  talked  of  this 
redoubtable  Pierrot. 

Another  question  of  importance  is,  whether  it  is  easier  or 
more  natural  to  recall  a  series  of  incidents  in  the  same 
order  in  which  they  occurred  or  in  the  inverse  order  ?  In 
my  opinion,  this  last  kind  of  association  is  essentially  arti- 
ficial ;  but  it  is  not  equally  easy,  or  at  any  rate  habitual,  to 
different  orders  of  mind,  apart  from  all  inequality  of  in- 
telligence. One  of  my  friends,  a  scientific  man  of  superior 
mind,  sent  me  the  following  reflections  on  this  subject :  "  I 
remember  that  Taine  asserts  that  memory  can  reproduce 
ideas  and  incidents  in  the  inverse  order  to  that  in  which 
they  first  arose.  He  cites  as  an  example  a  journey  along  a 
particular  road,  all  the  events  of  which  can  be  recalled  by 


144   'J'HE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

the  memory  in  an  order  exactly  the  reverse  to  that  in  which 
they  happened,  that  is  to  say,  beginning  at  the  point  of 
arrival  and  going  back  to  the  point  of  departure.  A  mani- 
fest error.  I  have  vainly  made  the  experiment,  and  I  have 
realized  that  in  a  series  of  objects  or  impressions,  a^  b,  c,  d, 
e^fy'ii  I  wanted  to  go  backwards  from  /  to  the  preceding 
object,  I  was  obliged  by  a  rapid  flight  to  imagine  myself 
as  having  reached  e  or  even  d  before  getting  tof.  To  pass 
from  e  to  d,  I  must  first  recall  c  or  even  d.  Thus,  having 
learnt  by  heart  the  series  of  stations  from  Bordeaux  to 
Morceux,  it  required  a  tremendous  effort  to  recall  the  in- 
verted series  from  Morceux  to  Bordeaux,  and  I  was  only 
able  to  construct  it  by  the  help  of  fragments  of  the  direct 
series."  Such  a  conclusion  surprised  me  in  a  man  of 
science,  and  one  thoroughly  initiated  in  the  methods  of 
natural  science.  Must  we  conclude  that  he  was  wanting  in 
capacity  to  accomplish  the  feat,  or  was  it  only  want  of 
habit  ?  It  may  be  that  certain  minds  are  naturally  more 
apt  at  it  than  others.  As  far  as  concerns  my  friend,  I 
verified  by  experience  that  this  operation  is  as  difficult  for 
him  as  it  is  easy  to  myself  I  made  the  experiment  apropos 
of  a  road  which  was  well  known  to  us  both  since  our  child- 
hood ;  taking  a  distance  of  two  leagues  from  a  town  to  a 
village,  I  repeated,  both  inversely  and  otherwise,  every  Httle 
road  on  the  left  hand  and  on  the  right,  which  diverged  from 
the  high  road.  My  friend  made  some  mistakes  even  when 
beginning  at  the  point  of  departure,  but  he  would  have 
made  a  still  greater  number  had  he  attempted  the  reverse 
way.  This  faculty,  which  I  am  convinced  is  essentially  an 
acquired  one,  but  which  is  also  more  or  less  a  natural  gift, 
must  be  very  feeble  in  children.  But  that  it  is  entirely  left 
out  at  the  beginning  of  life,  nothing  seems  to  show. 
/  It  is  association  which  makes  the  unity  of  our  mental 
existence,  by  establishing  a  natural  bond  between  all  the 
'  various  parts  of  which  it  is  constituted  ;  and  it  is  to  associa- 
tion that  we  must  look  for  the  formation  of  the  habits, 
judgment,  character,  and  morality  of  children.  Association 
presents  us  with  an  easy  means  of  exercising  the  memory 
methodically,  of  verifying  its  acquisitions  and  its  aptitudes, 


ASSOCIATION.  145 

of  facilitating  its  play,  and  rectifying  its  errors,  by  the  facility 
which  it  affords  a  child's  mind — especially  when  influenced 
by  an  adult  will— of  ascending  or  of  descending  the  chain 
of  its  ideas  and  sentiments.  Do  what  we  will,  however,  we 
shall  never  arrive  at  knowing  and  being  able  to  guide  more 
than  a  very  limited  number  of  the  associations  which  work 
in  a  child's  mind.  The  important  matter  is,  to  know  that 
we  can  discover  and  establish  a  great  many  essential  ones, 
those  which  are  the  most  apparent  and  habitual,  and  that 
we  can  thus  to  a  certain  extent  move  according  to  our  own 
will  the  secret  springs  of  the  young  character. 

We  must  not  give  in  to  Pension's  opinion,  that  it  is 
enough  to  awaken  the  curiosity  of  a  child  and  to  heap  up 
in  his  memory  a  mass  of  good  materials,  which  will  combine 
of  themselves  in  due  time  and  which  the  brain  when  more 
highly  developed  will  arrange  in  systematic  groups  ;/we 
should  endeavour  as  far  as  possible  to  control  the  first 
impressions  which  sink  unconsciously  into  a  child's  mind, 
but  still  more  careful  should  we  be  in  the  selection  of  those 
later  ones  which  we  try  to  inculcate  on  him,  and  of  the  links 
which  we  wish  to  establish  between  such  and  such  per- 
ceptions, sentiments,  or  actions ;  for  the  older  a  child  grows 
the  less  must  we  count  on  the  innate  tendency  of  just  ideas, 
suitable  sentiments,  and  useful  impulses  to  combine  them- 
selves in  logical  and  durable  associations.  To  a  child's 
mind  every  combination  is  logical  and  moral  from  the  mere 
fact  of  its  existing.  From  infancy  therefore  we  must  keep 
careful  guard  over  the  formation  of  those  associations  over 
which  we  have  any  hold.  Why  is  it  that  domestic  animals, 
— so  far  as  they  have  escaped  man's  training  and  follow 
the  natural  impulses  of  their  organization  combined  with  the 
direct  action  of  external  objects, — appear  to  us  often  to  show 
proofs  of  a  surer  and  quicker  judgment  in  the  things  which 
are  useful  for  them  to  know  than  most  human  beings  would 
in  like  circumstances  ?  It  is  because  the  instincts  in  each 
species,  and  their  variable  development  in  each  individual, 
are  subject  less  to  imitation  and  to  education  than  to  per- 
sonal experience,  and  to  the  latter  less  than  to  hereditary 
experience ;  and  by  experience  we  mean  associations  firmly 

L 


146   THE   FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

combined  and  in  a  very  limited  space.  Their  logic  is  more 
limited  than  ours,  it  is  circumscribed  within  a  small  sphere 
of  relations,  but  in  this  sphere  it  moves  easily  ;  it  is  founded 
on  the  natural  relations  of  things,  on  associations  truly  ex- 
perimental. 

As  much  may  be  said,  in  many  respects,  of  savages.  It 
is  not  only  by  the  acuteness  and  special  adaptations  of  their 
senses  that  they  are  superior  to  us,  but  by  the  judgments, 
limited  it  is  true,  but  founded  on  practical  experience, 
which  they  bring  to  bear  on  the  impressions  of  their  senses. 
Not  only  are  some  of  their  senses, — sight  and  hearing  for 
instance, — of  much  wider  scope  than  ours,  but  their  daily 
life  places  them  in  circumstances  fitted  for  the  exercise  and 
development  of  their  sensorial  judgments.  Concerning  the 
Arawaks,  Hillhouse  says,  "  Where  a  European  can  discover 
no  indication  whatever,  an  Indian  will  point  out  the  foot- 
steps of  any  number  of  negroes,  and  will  state  the  precise 
day  on  which  they  have  passed ;  and  if  on  the  same  day, 
he  will  state  the  hour."  ..."  Along  with  this  acute- 
ness of  perception  there  naturally  goes  a  high  degree  of 
skill  in  those  simple  actions  depending  on  the  immediate 
guidance  of  perception.  .  .  ."  ^  Such  is  the  result  of 
frequent  or  minute  observation  of  a  limited  number  of 
objects.  We  must  therefore  be  careful  to  select  experiences 
for  children  who  cannot  choose  for  themselves,  and  this 
not  only  with  a  view  of  developing  little  by  Httle  the 
sensorial  faculties  of  our  species  till  they  equal  those  of 
savages  and  certain  animals,  but  also  of  developing,  side  by 
side  with  the  perceptions,  the  faculty  of  judging  and  acting 
rightly. 

To  give  a  child  very  little  to  observe  at  a  time,  but  to 
make  it  observe  that  little  well  and  rightly,  is  the  true  way 
of  forming  and  storing  its  mind. 

^  H.  Spencer,  Principles  of  Sociology,  p.  88. 


IMAGINATION.  1 47 

II. 

IMAGINATION. 

Representative  or  reproductive  imagination,  or  the  return 
of  vivid  impressions,  images,  forms,  sounds,  colours,  objects, 
persons  and  places  which  have  keenly  affected  us,  begins 
to  work  very  early  in  life.  The  child,  hardly  a  month  old, 
who  recognises  his  mother's  breast  at  a  very  short  distance, 
shows,  by  the  strong  desire  it  has  to  get  to  it,  that  this  sight 
has  made  an  impression  on  it,  and  that  this  image  must 
be  deeply  engraven  on  its  memory.  The  child  who,  at  the 
age  of  three  months,  turns  sharply  round  on  bearing  a  bird 
sing,  or  on  hearing  the  name  coco  pronounced,  and  looks 
about  for  the  bird-cage,  has  formed  a  very  vivid  idea  of 
the  bird  and  the  cage.  When,  a  little  later,  on  seeing  his 
nurse  take  her  cloak,  or  his  mother  wave  her  umbrella,  he 
shows  signs  of  joy  and  pictures  to  himself  a  walk  out  of 
doors,  he  is  again  performing  a  feat  of  imagination.  In 
like  manner,  when,  at  the  age  of  seven  or  eight  months  old, 
having  been  deceived  by  receiving  a  piece  of  bread  instead 
of  cake,  on  finding  out  the  trick,  he  throws  the  bread  away 
angrily,  we  feel  sure  that  the  image  of  the  cake  must  be 
very  clearly  imprinted  on  his  mind.  Finally,  when  he 
begins  to  babble  the  word  papa^  at  the  sight  of  any  man 
whatever,  it  must  be  that  the  general  characteristics  which 
make  up  what  he  calls  papa  are  well  fixed  in  his  imagina- 
tion. 

The  terrors  which  young  children  and  animals  are  subject 
to,  and  which  are  as  vague  and  unaccountable  as  they  are 
strong,  are  in  both  cases  sure  indices  of  the  workings  of 
the  imagination.  How  can  we  otherwise  explain  a  child's 
dreams,  the  sudden  tremblings,  the  screams,  the  sobs,  the 
smiles,  the  movements  to  seize  hold  of  an  object  or  to  repel 
it  violently,  which  we  observe  in  an  infant  of  three  months 
while  asleep,  and  which  resemble  the  actions  produced 
during  its  waking  hours  by  fear,  pain,  hunger,  desire,  and 
joy  ?  It  may  be  supposed  that  these  recollections  of  ob- 
jects with  which  he  has  already  come  into  contact  came  to 


148    THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

him  also  during  the  diurnal  exercise  of  his  faculties,  but 
more  as  means  for  identifying  analogies  and  various  feel- 
ings, than  as  distinct  images  in  his  mind.  The  absorbing 
preoccupations  of  their  short  waking  moments  do  not  leave 
children  as  much  time  as  adults  for  imagining  recollections 
or  for  waking  dreams.  Thus,  a  little  baby  of  two  months 
and  a  half,  who  had  been  held  in  his  father's  arms  for  ten 
minutes,  stretched  out  its  arms  eagerly  and  with  evident 
delight  towards  its  mother  when  she  advanced  towards  it. 
The  numerous  impressions  with  which  the  father  had 
occupied  and  distracted  it  during  its  mother's  absence,  had 
they  not  prevented  it  from  thinking  of  the  absent  one  and 
imagining  her  near  at  hand  ?     Happily  for  children's  peace 

»  of  mind  and  delicate  health,  they  are  rarely  left  to  them- 
selves while  awake. 

From  my  sitting-room  I  have  often  heard  the  children  of 
working-people,  whose  mothers  had  been  obliged  to  leave 
'  them  alone  for  a  couple  of  hours,  screaming  distractedly 
in  their  cradles  ;  their  agonized  shrieks  of  Mamma,  7namma, 
as  soon  as  they  can  utter  the  sound,  indicate  clearly  what  was 
the  nature  of  the  images  and  sentiments  which  distressed 
them  several  months  before,  when,  on  finding  themselves  in 
the  same  isolated  state,  they  had  no  power  of  expressing 
their  grief  and  anger.     If  children  exercise  their  imagination 

\  when  awake,  everything  leads  us  to  believe  that  they  exercise 
it  still  more  during  their  sleep.  This  is  in  my  mind  the 
most  favourable  time  for  the  intellectual  labour  of  little 
children,  labour  which  must  be  frequent  and  peaceful,  and 
whose  value  is  almost  always  in  direct  ratio  to  the  apparent 
repose  of  the  exterior  organs.  It  is  then  that  those  hallu- 
cinatory sensations  without  any  present  or  definite  object, 
those  vivid  reminiscences,  those  countless  associations — 
flashes  of  abstraction  and  generalization — those  collocations 
verging  on  comparison,  those  objective  judgments  and 
reasonings,  resuscitate,  under  the  more  or  less  open  eye 
of  consciousness,  in  the  fibres  of  the  brain,  charged  as  they 
are  with  recent  impressions  and  along  which  the  blood  ebbs 
and  flows  rapidly,  awakening  incessantly  the  vitality  which 
is  scarcely  affected  by  the  paralysis  of  slumber. 


IMAGINATION.  1 49 

Let  us  study  the  transition  from  reproductive  to  pro- 
ductive imagination,  which  is  also  called  poetic  or  creative. 
As  soon  as  ideas  no  longer  present  themselves  in  the  order 
in  which  the  intelligence  has  first  perceived  them,  as  soon 
as  something  has  become  altered — were  it  only  one  link 
suppressed  in  a  series  of  associated  images — there  may  be ; 
said  to  have  taken  place  an  artificial  mental  composition,  a  ' 
modified  conception  of  reality,  a  spontaneous  work  of  pro- 
ductive imagination.  These  free  combinations  of  images 
arise  spontaneously  in  young  children  ;  and  is  it  not  often 
the  same  with  adults,  who  are  visited  by  so  many  unex- 
pected inspirations?  The  little  Tiedemann,  when  five 
months,  old  "guessed,"  his  father  says,  when  he  was  going 
to  be  taken  out,  and  showed  signs  of  delight.  His  bio- 
grapher sees  no  more  in  this  than  an  association  of  ideas  ; 
but  there  is  more  in  it.  Mixed  up  with  the  act  of  judgment 
which  the  word  guess  presupposes,  there  is  a  very  vivid 
conception  of  some  of  the  recollections  attached  to  the  idea 
of  going  out,  which  produces  in  the  child's  mind  a  series  of 
delightful  pictures.  Now,  supposing  the  child  to  be  awake, 
this  conception  would  probably  remain  for  some  time  in 
exact  correspondence  with  the  reality.  But  during  sleep 
the  capricious  mobility  of  the  ideas  would  introduce  into 
these  images  of  reality  some  circumstances  and  details  of 
a  fantastic  description.  Certain  details  would  be  added, 
others  would  disappear;  time,  places,  objects,  would  be 
transformed  in  a  thousand  unforeseen  ways.  The  impres- 
sions of  the  reality  would  become,  to  a  sleeping  child,  a 
fictitious  reaHty. 

Let  us  picture  to  ourselves  the  working  of  infant  intelli- 
gence during  dreams,  inferring,  as  analogy  will  allow  up  to 
a  certain  point,  from  a  child  who  can  speak  to  one  who  is 
still  mute. 

The  infant  has  just  slept  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  :  this  first 
slumber,  consecrated  to  the  repose  of  the  organs,  has  been 
very  profound  ;  a  flow  of  blood  to  the  brain,  occasioned  by 
some  internal  trouble,  half  wakes  him  up ;  the  nurse  rocks 
him,  and  in  two  or  three  minutes  he  is  again  asleep.  As 
the  first  sleep  has  already  in  some  measure  repaired  the  losses 


150   THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

of  organic  life,  this  second  sleep  is  lighter  and  more  favour- 
able to  dreams.  Vague  sensations,  transmitted  from  the 
periphery  to  the  brain,  excite  a  revival  of  ideas,  and  the  play 
of  associating  and  dissociating  images  has  already  begun.  A 
fly  settling  on  the  child's  face,  a  movement  of  its  bed  curtains, 
a  sensation  of  contact  caused  by  the  sheets  or  its  nightgown, 
a  ray  of  light  faUing  on  its  closed  eyelids,  a  noise  in  the 
house  or  in  the  street,  the  muscular  sensations  caused  by  one 
of  the  child's  automatic  movements,  an  impression  surging 
up  from  the  depths  of  the  organs  of  vegetative  life — in  short, 
the  slightest  circumstance  foreign  to  the  ordinary  life  of  the 
brain,  will  suffice  to  awaken  its  functional  energy,  and  set 
the  child  off  dreaming.  Instantly  memory  recalls  to  him  any 
of  the  most  striking  incidents  of  the  day — the  green  bench, 
for  instance,  on  which  his  nurse  sat  with  him  ;  and  with 
this  comes  a  whole  train  of  associated  images.  A  large  tree 
with  waving  branches,  a  beautiful  white  cloud  on  a  bit  of 
blue  sky,  the  smiling  face  of  a  child  who  kissed  him,  let 
him  handle  his  toys,  and  play  with  him,  then  a  dog,  spotted 
with  white  and  brown,  which  came  and  put  its  paws  on  the 
child's  frock  and  licked  his  face ;  then  a  man  in  a  red  and 
blue  uniform,  whose  large  sword  glittered  and  made  a  great 
noise,  then  another  man  like  the  first,  who  passed  very  near 
the  path,  sounding  a  drum ;  then  a  horse  galloping  the  same 
way,  then  some  more  men  in  red  and  blue  with  gleaming 
bayonets  on  their  shoulders,  then  a  heavy  cart  which  bumped 
on  the  pavement  with  a  loud  noise,  and  directly  after  that 
an  ugly  woman  with  a  smiling  fac^,  offering  cakes  for  sale 
out  of  a  basket.  We  are  supposing  that  all  these  salient 
events,  which  happened  whilst  the  child  was  out  of  doors, 
have  come  back  to  his  mind  in  the  order  of  succession  of 
the  real  impressions.  But  the  reproduction  of  these  recol- 
lections— the  illusion  of  sleep  assisting — has  made  of  them 
a  simultaneous  picture.  This  in  itself  would  be  a  notable 
modification,  were  there  no  other,  for  imagination  to  have 
introduced  into  recollections  of  real  incidents.  To  modify 
still  further  this  chain  of  associations,  it  needs  only  a  fresh 
excitation,  coming  either  from  outside  or  rising  from  within, 
which  shall  combine  in  the  brain  old  recollections  with  new 


IMAGINATION.  I5I 

ones,  separate  what  was  united  and  unite  what  was  separated, 
and  form  disproportioned  and  incongruous  associations  of 
ideas;  and  the  reproductive  imagination  will  have  given 
place  to  the  productive  imagination. 

If  the  series  of  impressions  conceived  in  the  dream  were  a 
faithful  imitation  of  the  real  impressions,  why  should  there 
be  those  violent  contractions  of  the  face,  those  contortions 
of  the  limbs,  that  wild  laughter  and  those  piercing  screams 
and  convulsive  tremblings  so  painful  to  witness,  and  all  those 
evident  signs  of  intense  sensations  and  emotions  which  the 
reahties,  the  recollection  of  which  forms  the  tissue  of  the 
dreams,  did  not  excite  in  the  child  ?  A  considerable  change  j 
must  therefore  have  been  produced  in  his  hallucinated  brain, 
a  change  affecting  the  proportions  of  the  images  and  their 
mutual  relations. 

For  example,  the  large  horse  will  have  taken  the  place  of 
the  dog;  with  awful  neighings,  he  advances  his  gigantic 
nostrils  close  to  the  child's  face.  The  cake,  a  piece  of  which 
was  snapped  up  by  the  dog,  will  be  seized  by  the  huge  mouth 
of  the  horse,  which  will  then  gallop  off  to  the  cart  carrying 
away  the  nurse  and  the  little  child ;  and  so  on  through  the 
whole  chapter,  until  the  horror  reaches  a  climax,  and  the 
child  awakes  with  a  loud  scream. 

But  his  half-open  eyes  have  perceived,  transfigured  as  in 
the  dream,  the  gentle  face  of  his  nurse,  who  is  rocking  him 
and  whispering  comforting  words  in  his  ear.  The  charm 
takes  effect,  and  the  child  goes  to  sleep  again,  and  resumes 
the  thread  of  his  dream  interwoven  now  with  joy  and  happi- 
ness; the  green  bench  reappears,  and  the  little  children, 
dressed  in  white  and  blue  and  pink,  with  bright  eyes  and 
rosy  cheeks;  cake  and  toys  are  given  to  him,  and  so  on, 
and  so  on,  at  the  will  of  the  capricious  fairy,  who  is  the 
association  of  ideas.  Such  is  the  rudimentary  working  of 
creative  imagination. 

Dreams  are  the  poems  of  children,  who,  even  when  awake, 
are  always  more  or  less  of  poets.  Ah !  the  strange  dramas,  the 
merry  comedies,  the  sparkling  idylls,  the  dismal  elegies,  the 
thrilling  odes  which  have  haunted  in  their  cradles  the  brains 
of  future  poets !     Fictitious  inventions  which  will  perhaps 


152    THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

return  to  them  later  in  life  without  being  recognised,  when 
they  think  they  are  imagining  quite  new  and  original  combi- 
nations. For  the  adult,  as  well  as  for  the  young  child,  what 
we  call  creative  imagination  consists  in  separating,  combin- 
ing, cutting  down,  amplifying,  abridging,  exaggerating,  and 
juxtaposing  in  a  thousand  different  ways,  and  often  in  an 
order  the  least  intended,  former  perceptions,  judgments,  and 
reasonings,  in  order  to  create  out  of  these  materials  an 
inner  world  quite  different  from  the  outer  one,  though  made 
after  its  image. 

In  the  waking  state  the  exercise  of  this  faculty  shows 
itself  by  manifestations  of  diverse  kinds. 

III. 

SPECIAL   IMAGINATION. 

Every  sense  has  its  special  imagination;  but  psychologists 
tell  us  that  the  senses  of  sight  and  hearing  call  up  more 
vivid  and  distinct  images  than  the  other  senses.  "  This 
is  because  sight  and  hearing  play  a  more  important  part  in 
our  existence  than  taste  and  smell ;  incessantly  employed 
for  the  most  various  needs,  these  senses  are  seldom  left 
inactive.  Besides  which,  the  nerves  set  in  vibration  by 
auditory  and  visual  impressions  are  finer,  more  distinct,  and 
more  numerous,  and  their  ramifications  in  the  cerebral  sub- 
stance are  more  systematic."  ^  Moreover,  it  is  the  images 
perceived  by  these  senses  which  dominate  in  animal  intelli- 
gences, and  in  human  intelligence  in  a  state  of  rest,  or  of 
relative  suspension  of  thought,  such  as  reverie,  natural  sleep, 
and  hypnotism.  In  induced  somnambulism,  as  M.  Richet 
has  said,  "  the  medulla  acts  when  the  brain  has  become 
powerless ; "  and  in  addition  to  automatism  of  movements, 
one  of  the  most  characteristic  phenomena  of  this  state  is  the 
seeing  of  images.  A  child  in  its  ordinary  state  is  what  a 
somnambulist  is  by  accident ;  in  the  one  and  the  other  the 
superior  nerve  centres  are  but  Uttle  active  and  balanced. 
It  is  not  astonishing  that  a  child's  imagination  should  respond 

*  H.  Jolly,  Cours  de  Philosophies  p.  136. 


SPECIAL   IMAGINATION.  1 53 

to  external  excitations,  and  d,  fortiori  to  those  of  sight,  which  i 
are  the  most  vivid  and  numerous.  The  habitual  state  of  ' 
little  children  is  that  of  waking  dreams. 

Mr.  Galton  has  made  some  interesting  researches  on  the 
mental  representation  of  visual  images.  The  result  has  been 
to  prove  the  existence  of  natural  varieties  of  mental  dispo- 
sition in  different  races,  sexes,  and  ages.  It  appears  to  be 
established,  on  the  testimony  of  learned  men  themselves,  that 
to  the  great  majority  of  them  mental  imagery  was  unknown, 
and  that  they  looked  on  him  as  fanciful  and  fantastic  in 
supposing  that  the  words  *  mental  imagery  '  had  more  than 
a  metaphysical  meaning.  On  the  other  hand,  people  of  the  \ , 
world,  women  and  children,  on  being  interrogated  by  Mr. 
Galton,  "  declared  that  they  habitually  saw  mental  imagery, 
and  that  it  was  distinct  and  full  of  colour."  It  has  also  been 
established,  that  colour  is  more  easily  imaged  than  form, 
especially  with  children,  but  that  the  faculty  of  imaging 
colour  disappears  sooner  than  the  other.  These  are  facts 
of  the  highest  importance  in  the  training  of  infant  faculties 
and  intelligence,  if  we  allow  that  imagination  is  always  asso- 
ciated with  the  other  phenomena  of  psychic  Hfe,  and  that 
in  children  it  dominates  over  these  others  and  carries  them 
away  with  it. 

Imagination  can  also  reproduce,  and  sometimes  with 
great  power  and  vividness,  the  perceptions  of  sound.  The 
tone  of  a  human  voice,  the  noise  of  an  animal,  the  cracking 
of  a  whip  or  the  rumbling  of  a  carriage,  the  ringing  of  bells, 
the  loud  chords  of  an  orchestra,  haunt  us  still  when  the 
sounds  themselves  are  silent.  We  can  recall  the  airs  that 
we  have  heard  played  or  sung ;  when  we  hum  the  scale,  we 
have  every  note  of  it  in  our  ears.  A  musician  composes  in 
his  mind,  and  when  he  tunes  his  instrument,  he  compares 
its  sounds  with  those  he  hears  in  imagination.  We  also 
hear  mentally  the  words  which  express  our  thoughts,  so  that 
it  has  become  almost  impossible  to  us  to  think  without  words, 
a  phenomenon  designated  by  philosophers  under  the  name 
of  inter7ial  speech.  The  auditive  imagination,  more  or  less 
developed,  according  to  the  infant's  organization,  plays  a 
very  important  part  in  its  intellectual  evolution,  and  a  very 


154   THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

important  one  also  in  its  emotional,  moral,  and  aesthetic  evo- 
lution.    We  shall  have  occasion  to  refer  to  this  later. 

All  recollections  imply  mental  images  more  or  less  dis- 
tinct and  vivid ;  and  we  could  not  remember  or  recognise 
a  single  taste  or  smell  if  the  senses  of  taste  and  smell  had  not 
also  their  special  imaginations.  There  is  no  doubt  that  we 
represent  flavours  and  odours  to  ourselves  in  a  particular 
manner.  If  a  gourmet  can  taste  and  smell  in  imagination, 
a  gourmand  can  enjoy  his  dinner  in  advance.  The  recol- 
lection of  sensations  of  smell,  although  generally  feeble,  may 
sometimes  be  vivid  enough  to  make  us  take  them  for  reaUty. 
People  with  a  very  delicate  sense  of  smell  can  enjoy  in 
anticipation  the  scent  of  a  rose  which  they  see,  or  that  of 
a  bunch  of  violets  which  they  are  about  to  buy.  We  have 
shown  above  that  this  kind  of  imagination  is  already  intel- 
lectually and  emotionally  active  in  some  young  children. 

There  is  also  certainly  a  tactile  imagination,  a  muscular 
imagination,  and  a  thermal  imagination.  The  imagination 
of  touch  is  exemplified  in  people  born  blind,  who  can  picture 
to  themselves,  without  the  help  of  sight,  the  objects  around 
them,  who  read  raised  letters  by  means  of  their  fingers,  who 
possess  a  tactile  system  of  geometry,  and  represent  to 
themselves  tangible  figures  as  we  do  visible  ones.^  These 
three  kinds  of  imagination,  which  superficial  observers  con- 
found in  one  only — tactile  imagination — are  powerfully 
exercised  from  the  first  days  of  life.  We  have  already  de- 
voted a  few  observations  to  them  in  the  chapter  on  emotional 
and  sensual  perceptions.  We  will  content  ourselves  here 
with  reminding  parents  and  educators  of  children  of  their 
extreme  susceptibility  to  the  different  impressions  in  ques- 
tion. A  child  of  three  months  will  already  distinguish  people 
from  the  manner  in  which  they  touch,  stroke,  hold,  or  carry 
him.  At  six  months  he  already  appreciates  very  imagina- 
tively the  little  punishments  that  are  inflicted  on  him,  the 
people  in  connection  with  these  punishments,  and  the 
objects  which  are  the  instruments  of  them.    There  are  some 


Diderot,  Letires  sur  les  Aveugles. 


SPECIAL   IMAGINATION.  155 

children  whom  the  sight  of  a  doctor  who  has  attended  them 
will  drive  almost  mad.  If  there  are  some  children  who  are 
very  little  sensible, — one  might  almost  say  insensible, — to 
blows,  it  is  quite  the  contrary  with  the  greater  number.  I 
can  never  help  laughing  when  I  see  the  peasant  women  in 
my  own  country  frightening  their  little  pickles  of  two  or 
three  years  old,  or  more,  with  nothing  but  these  words  : 
"  Qu^ou  tep'elil^  or  "  Quet  ba  cose''''  (crude  Gascon  formulae,  not 
easy  to  translate).  Whoever  is  inclined  to  doubt  the  power- 
ful effects  of  tactile  imagination,  has  only  to  read  the  retro- 
spective memoirs  of  a  child,  now  almost  an  old  man,  who 
has  not  forgiven  his  mother  the  "  thrashings  "  of  old  days.^ 
It  is  a  happy  thing,  moreover,  that  tactile  and  muscular  im- 
pressions do  leave  deep  traces  on  the  child's  imagination.  If 
this  is  the  secret  of  some  of  his  Uttle  troubles  and  sorrows, 
it  is  also  the  cause  of  his  greatest  pleasures.  We  may  often 
notice  in  little  children  between  fifteen  months  and  four 
years  old  an  inexplicable  kind  of  hyper-excitement  of  the 
tactilo -muscular  imagination ;  they  feel  a  need  to  cuddle  up 
against  anything  or  anybody,  inanimate  objects,  people, 
animals.  "  Let  us  squeeze  each  other,"  said  a  child  of  two 
years  old  to  a  friend  of  its  mother's,  proceeding  at  the  same 
time  to  hug  her  tightly.  Is  this  play,  or  a  superabundance 
of  vitality,  or  unregulated  and  unconscious  impulsions  of 
affectivity  ? 

The  influence  of  sentiment  on  imagination  and  of  imagi-\ 
nation  on  sentiment  are  facts  so  well  known,  and  which  are 
so  frequently  the  cause  of  affectionate  rapprochements  between 
grown  up  people  and  children,  that  they  need  not  be  dwelt 
on  here  in  connection  with  children.  The  affections,  senti- 
ments, passions,  desires,  fears,  aversions,  pleasures,  and  loves 
of  children  have  a  continual  tendency  to  embody  themselves 
in  people  and  animals  and  inanimate  objects  ;  they  appear 
before  their  eyes  as  images  in  relief,  varied,  capricious,  and 
incoherent,  nearly  always  false  and  exaggerated,  often  ter- 
rible, sometimes  enchanting. 


*  Jacques  Vingtras,  V Enfant. 


156   THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

At  the  age  of  a  year,  when  a  child  is  not  yet  a  "  speaking 
intelligence,"  and  even  after  he  has  begun  to  speak,  things 
present  themselves  to  his  mind  more  than  -the  signs,  terms, 
oi:  gestures  which  express  them.  Everything  is  reproduced 
in  his  mind  in  pictures ;  he  thinks  in  images,  he  measures 
the  truth  of  things  by  the  vivacity  of  his  impressions. 
Owing  to  their  power  of  scenic  imagination,  which  brings 
before  their  mind's  eyes  the  saHent  features  of  real  life,  and 
awakens  in  their  hearts  the  corresponding  sentiments,  little 
children  who  can  speak,  and  doubtless  also  those  who 
cannot,  have  frequent  moments  of  retrospection,  which 
affect  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  their  happiness  and  their 
moral  health,  and  consequently,  also  their  physical  health. 

A. little  girl,  two-and-a-half  years  old  was  heard  relating 
with  all  the  seriousness  of  a  grown  person,  with  touching 
sadness  and  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  the  acts  of  brutality 
which  her  father  sometimes  committed  towards  her  mother. 
"  Naughty  papa,"  she  said,  "  very  naughty  papa  !  He 
always  does  like  that  to  mother ;  he  throws  her  down,  and 
then  I  cry.     He  is  very  naughty  !  " 

A  little  boy,  between  three  and  four,  saw  some  fir-cones 
in  a  park.  "  Pretty  fir-cones  !  "  cried  he  ;  *'  there  are  some 
like  that  at  Arcachon,  at  the  sea-side.  I  went  last  year  to 
Arcachon  with  papa  and  mamma.  I  played  a  great  deal, 
and  was  not  much  scolded." 

What  has  struck  all  observers  of  little  children  is,  that 
with  their  aptitude  in  recalling,  even  with  emotion,  all  that 
they  have  seen  and  heard,  they  are  unable  to  localize  their 
recollections  in  time  or  space.  These  Kantian  forms  of 
understanding  are  very  incomplete  categories  at  this  epoch 
of  rudimentary  analysis,  abstraction,  and  comparison.  A 
child  of  two  years,  who  passed  nearly  every  day  along  the 
same  street  on  the  way  to  the  Jardin  des  TuilerieSj  was  one 
day  taken  by  his  nurse  to  the  garden  of  the  Luxe??ibourg 
instead.  The  instant  he  caught  sight  of  the  garden  railings 
he  cried  out,  "  Chddin  Tiri."  Although  young  children  are 
chiefly  engrossed  with  what  they  are  doing  at  the  present 
moment,  they  have  also  a  vague  idea  of  the  recent  past  as 
such ;  but  this  idea  must  have  some  actuality  for  them,  in 


SPECIAL   IMAGINATION.  157 

order  to  interest  them.  They  will  say,  "  I  did  that  yester- 
day," when  it  was  done  in  the  morning.  The  future  which 
is  not  very  near,  or  which  does  not  appear  so  to  them,  has 
no  influence  over  their  imagination.  A  child  of  two  years 
said  to  his  mother,  "  As  we  are  going  to  Roy  an  to-morrow 
to  see  grandmamma,  why  don't  you  dress  at  once  ?  "  But 
at  three  years  old,  this  same  child,  who  was  very  happy  in 
a  temporary  residence,  and  who  knew  that  his  parents  were 
going  to  leave  it  in  a  week,  tried  to  put  back  the  day  of 
departure  by  an  illusion  of  his  imagination,  which  was  con- 
cerned in  seeing  that  day  deferred  as  long  as  possible.  He 
used  to  say  to  his  aunt,  "We  are  going  to  Bordeaux  in 
eight  days,  not  to-morrow,  no,  but  in  a  very  long  while." 
Let  it  then  be  our  endeavour  to  make  this  present,  which 
is  everything  to  children,  happy  and  joyous ;  let  us  by  all 
means  insure  to  them  that  happiness  which  costs  so  little, 
and  which  is  the  first  condition  of  their  moral  progress. 
Happy  children  are  good  children. 

Rousseau  has  written  some  beautiful  passages  on  the 
happiness  which  is  due  to  children,  who  may  perhaps  never 
know  it  later. 

One  of  the  most  terrible  diseases  that  mankind  is  subject 
to  is  insanity,  and  facts  authorize  us  in  thinking  that  the 
youngest  child  is  not  more  proof  against  this  form  of 
disease  than  against  any  other.  All  that  we  can  say  is,  that 
it  is  relatively  less  frequent  in  infancy.  M.  Compayre  has 
collected  from  writers  on  lunacy  a  number  of  observations 
to  which  we  call  the  attention  of  our  readers.  Convulsions 
may,  up  to  a  certain  point,  be  considered  as  the  first  stage 
of  insanity  in  children,  whether  arising  from  constitutional 
or  accidental  causes.  They  have  all  the  external  character- 
istics, and  often  all  the  intellectual  and  moral  consequences 
of  mental  disease.  Trousseau  cites  a  curious  example. 
"  A  doctor,  called  in  to  attend  a  young  child  in  convulsions, 
advised  that  its  cap  should  be  taken  off.  He  then  saw  a 
piece  of  thread* lying  on  the  child's  head;  and  in  trying  to 
remove  it  he  dragged  out  a  long  needle  which  had  been 
deeply  buried  in  the  cranium.  The  instant  the  needle  was 
taken  out,  the  convulsions  stopped.     Convulsions,  however, 


158    THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

more  often  arise  from  constitutional  causes,  from  cerebral 
affections  transmitted  by  heredity.  They  appear  in  indi- 
viduals who  are  endowed  with  special  nervous  suscepti- 
bility, which  is  transmitted  by  birth  from  the  forefathers  to 

>  the  children,   and  which  manifests  itself  now  by  one  phe- 
nomenon, now  by  another— by  convulsions  in  children,  by 

-  >  epilepsy  or  hysteria  in  adults.  On  careful  investigation,  it 
will  perhaps  be  found  that  there  is  not  a  single  family  where 
i  madness  exists  in  which  convulsions  have  not  played  a 
certain  part.  Even  in  families  which  are  only  highly  nerv- 
ous, and  who  have  yet  had  no  cases  of  madness  in  their 
midst,  the  appearance  of  infantine  eclampsia  manifesting 
itself  successively  in  several  children,  should  be  considered 

>  a  very  bad  symptom."     It  is,  as  it  were,  the  first  signal  of 
the  possible  invasion  of  insanity  in  a  family  hitherto  sane.^ 

Hallucination,  which  is  the  second  degree  of  insanity, 
rarely  shows  itself  in  children  by  unmistakable  signs.  If 
it  does  take  possession  of  a  child  of  three  or  six  months,  it 
may  easily  be  confounded  with  the  disorders  consequent  on 
over-excited  sentiment.  We  can  nevertheless  point  to  cases 
where  the  absorption  of  poisonous  substances  has  thrown 
young  children  into  nervous  states  analogous  to  the  state  of 
hallucination.  Dr.  Thore  is  our  authority  for  the  following 
case : — 

"A  little  girl,  fifteen  months  old,  had  swallowed,  in  her 
mother's  absence,  a  considerable  number  of  grains  of 
Datura  Stramonium.  Almost  instantly  the  child  was  thrown 
into  a  state  of  agitation  which  frightened  her  mother  very 
much.  The  doctor  who  was  called  made  the  following 
depositions  : — '  A  great  change  has  supervened  in  the  visual 
organs  ;  the  child  seems  to  be  deprived  of  sight ;  she  does 
not  look  at  any  of  the  objects  around  her,  and  pays  no 
attention  to  things  which  used  to  please  her  and  which  she 
was  in  the  habit  of  asking  for.  A  watch  is  shown  to  her, 
and  some  of  her  toys ;  but  they  do  not  attract  her  atten- 
tion, while,  on  the  contrary,  she  appears  to  be  reaching  after 

^  Compayre,  La  Folie  chez  V Enfant.  Revue  PhiL,  Dec.  1880,  in  the 
Annates  Medicates. 


SPECIAL   IMAGINATION.  1 59 

imaginary  objects  at  some  distance  from  her,  and  which  she 
tries  to  get  hold  of  by  constantly  stretching  out  her  arms 
and  clutching  with  her  hands.  She  even  raises  herself  up 
by  leaning  on  the  sides  of  her  cradle,  as  if  to  get  nearer  to 
these  objects.  She  tosses  her  hands  about  in  the  air  as  if 
trying  to  catch  objects  that  are  flying  away.' "  ^ 

Here  are  some  more  facts  which,  although  indeed  be- 
longing to  a  rather  more  advanced  period  than  that  treated 
of  in  this  book,  are  none  the  less  interesting  to  students  of 
infant  psychology. 

The  most  habitual  form  of  intellectual  aberration  in 
children  appears  to  be  mania,  that  is  to  say,  incoherence 
and  delirium  of  ideas,  furious  agitation  or  tranquil  wan- 
dering of  the  thoughts.  On  this  point  most  authorities  are 
agreed.  Dr.  Delasiauve,^  Dr.  Paulmier  (in  his  thesis  en- 
titled "  Mental  Affections  in  Children,  and  Mania  in  par- 
ticular "),^  and  Dr.  Morel,*  declare  that  insanity  in  children 
generally  takes  the  form  of  maniacal  excitation. 

The  following  are  some  remarkable  cases  collected  from 
the  writings  of  mad-doctors.  We  will  quote  first  the 
very  circumstantial  case  given  by  Dr.  Chatelain,  who  has 
himself  had  occasion  to  study  a  child  of  four  years  and 
some  months,  the  daughter  of  a  farmer  of  the  Jura.  Two 
causes  especially, —the  one  entirely  physical  (viz.,  measles), 
the  other  moral  (a  great  fright  caused  by  the  sight  of  a 
fire-engine), — had  acted  on  the  feeble  constitution  of  this 
child,  and  determined  the  peculiar  state  from  which  she  was 
suffering.  "  Louise,''  Dr.  Chatelain  states,  "  is  *  droky  sin- 
gular, and  distraite.  She  answers  at  cross-purposes  to  the 
questions  put  to  her.  One  day  her  father  told  her  to  bring 
him  her  doll;  she  went  to  fetch  it,  but  brought  back 
nothing,  though  saying  at  the  same  time,  '  Here  it  is ' ;  the 
hand  and  the  arm  made  the  gesture  of  a  person  giving 


^  Quoted  by  M.  Compayre,  loc.  citat. 

2  See  Annates  Medico-psychologiques,  1855,  tome  i.,  p.  527.     Forme 
Maniaquespeciale  chez  les  Enfants. 
^  La  These  de  M.  Le  Fautmier,  1856. 
^  See  Annates  Medico-psyctiotogiques,  1870.  tome  ii.,  pp.  260-269.    ^ 


l6o    THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

something,  but  the  hand  was  empty.  Since  her  illness  her 
character  has  sensibly  altered;  she  has  entirely  lost  the 
timidity  natural  to  her  age.  In  the  presence  of  two  phy- 
sicians who  were  unknown  to  her,  and  who  examined  her, 
she  showed  no  shyness  and  no  awkwardness.  If  asked  a 
question,  she  answered  vivaciously  and  without  hesitation, 
but  quite  at  random."  And  then  follows  a  full-length 
description  of  a  conversation  testifying  to  the  complete 
disorder  of  ideas  in  a  child  otherwise  very  intelligent,  and 
whose  ailment  cannot  be  confounded  with  idiotcy. 

The  preceding  example  gives  us  a  case  of  calm  and 
tranquil  mania.  The  little  girl  in  question,  however,  was 
also  subject  to  fits  of  furious  mania,  which  took  the  form 
of  a  need  of  perpetual  movement,  of  tears  and  screams, 
and  threats  of  death  to  her  parents.  At  other  times,  agita- 
tion is  the  permanent  characteristic. 

With  rather  older  children  cases  of  maniacal  madness 
are  still  more  frequent.  Dr.  Morel  cites  the  case  of  a  child 
five  years  old,  who,  in  consequence  of  a  shock  caused  by 
fear,  fell  into  a  state  of  "continual  turbulence  and  maniacal 
exacerbation."^  Dr.  Guislain  records,  under  the  name  of 
furious  monopathy,  a  malady  of  the  same  kind  in  a  little 
girl  of  seven  years.  Here  the  cause  of  the  evil  was  a  blow 
on  the  head.^  And  as  moral  causes  always  alternate  with 
physical  ones  in  the  generation  of  insanity,  we  find  in 
Foville  a  case  of  a  boy  ten  years  old  who  lost  his  reason 
through  reading  too  much. 

"  It  is  a  remarkable  fact,  that  with  all  these  numerous 
examples  of  infant  mania,  the  list  of  which  we  might  prolong, 
not  a  single  case  of  monomania  can  be  recorded.  Fixity  of 
ideas  is  quite  as  impossible  in  children  in  a  state  of  mania, 
as  in  their  normal  and  rational  state.  The  little  mad  girl 
described  by  Dr.  Chatelain  was  continually  undergoing  a 
change  of  ideas.  "  Generally  speaking,  some  one  idea  would 
occupy  her  exclusively  for  a  day  or  two,  and  would  then  give 
way  to  another."     Monomania  appears  at  first  sight  to  be  a 


1  Morel,  op.  cit.,  p.  102. 

^  Dictionnaire  de  Medecine^  1829. 


SPECIAL   IMAGINATION.  l6l 

sign  of  great  intellectual  weakness,  since  all  the  ideas  and 
sentiments  are  as  it  were  annihilated  before  one  single 
thought,  which  has  become  sole  master  of  the  consciousness. 
And  yet,  if  we  think  about  it,  monomania  presupposes  a 
certain  force  of  intelligence  and  power  of  concentration,  , 
since  it  is  a  thoroughly  systematic  delirium.  Children,  with 
their  mobile,  incoherent  ideas,  their  fluctuating,  volatile  im- 
pressions, may  easily  become  delirious — i.e.,  pass  from  one 
idea  to  another  without  connection  or  reason ;  but  we  can 
understand  their  not  having  sufficient  strength  to  group  all 
their  faculties  round  one  single  mad  conception  in  a  perma- 
nent manner.  This  then,  no  doubt,  is  the  reason  why  intel- 
lectual disorder  manifests  itself  in  children  by  a  rapid  and 
incoherent  succession  of  ideas,  incessantly  and  distractedly 
chasing  one  another,  rather  than  by  the  obstinate  concen- 
tration of  all  the  forces  of  the  mind  in  one  direction."  ^ 

One  of  the  most  curious  forms  of  imagination  is  automa- 
tism. It  is  one  of  the  most  important  phenomena  of 
somnambulism,  and  one  which  will  help  us  to  realize  what 
goes  on  in  a  child's  imagination.  "  If  we  ask  a  sleeping 
person  to  say  what  he  is  thinking  about,  he  will  always 
answer,  that  he  is  not  thinking  of  anything,  and  that  he  has 
no  ideas  whatever.  We  must  take  this  answer  au  pied  de  la 
lettre.  A  somnambulist  does  not  think  at  all.  His  intelli- 
gence is  a  blank — absolute  vacuity.  This  psychic  inertia 
shows  itself  by  the  complete  inertia  of  the  face  and  of  the 
voluntary  movements.  But  if,  in  the  middle  of  this  utter 
blankness,  an  image  or  an  idea  is  suddenly  presented,  this 
idea  will  at  once  take  possession  of  the  entire  imagination.  "^ 

Thus  in  children,  their  relative  psychic  inertia  explains 
the  vivacity  of  their  impressions,  their  strong  objectivity, 
their  temporary  possession  by  some  idea :  they  are,  as  it 
were,  at  the  mercy  of  momentary  impressions,  and  especially 
of  those  of  the  greatest  intensity.  All  that  they  see  they 
believe  to  be  exactly  as  they  see  it     All  that  is  told  to  them. 


*  These  remarks  are  in  accordance  with  those  which  I  have  made  in 
the  chapter  on  Memory. 
2  Ch.  Richt,  Revue  Fhilosoph.,  Oct.  1880,  p.  361. 

M 


l62   THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

rises  in  vivid  images  before  them.  All  the  ideas  that  are 
suggested  to  them  appear  to  them  in  a  visible  form,  and 
they  instantly  proceed  to  execute  or  imitate  them.  All  this 
explains  the  powerful  influence  of  example  on  these  phable 
Uttle  spirits,  and  also  the  contagious  effect  on  them  of  senti- 
ments expressed  by  words  and  gestures.  As  the  person 
magnetized  is  subject  to  the  magnetizer,  so,  in  a  lesser  degree 
and'  without  complete  continuity,  children  are  subject,  phy- 
sically, intellectually,  and  morally,  to  the  suggestions  and 
influence  of  the  people  about  them.  They  are  veritable 
automatons,  obeying  consciously  or  unconsciously,  with 
more  or  less  entire  docility,  the  tyrannical  influence  of  any 
image  that  suggests  itself  or  is  presented  to  their  minds. 
The  following  extract  describes  a  hypnotized  subject,  whom 
the  automatism  of  which  we  have  spoken  reduces  in  some 
respects  to  the  level  of  a  child. 

"  I  say  to  v.,  '  Stroke  that  dog.'  Immediately  she  goes 
up  to  the  dog  and  strokes  him.  If  the  dog  tries  to  escape 
from  her  caresses,  V.  runs  after  him ;  if  he  goes  out  of  the 
room,  she  attempts  to  follow  him.  If  you  put  an  arm-chair 
or  a  bench  in  front  of  her,  to  stop  her  from  passing,  she 
either  knocks  it  over,  or,  if  she  cannot  do  this,  she  gets  irri- 
tated with  it,  and  pushes  it  angrily  away.  But  at  a  sign  from 
me,  she  will  stand  still,  trembling  with  rage  and  indignation. 
I  give  her  some  object  or  other,  a  pencil  for  instance,  for- 
bidding her  to  give  it  up  to  any  one.  If  one  of  the  assist- 
ants tries  to  take  it  away,  she  will  make  a  desperate  resist- 
ance, running  across  the  room,  fighting,  biting,  and  kicking, 
in  a  state  of  indignation  which  one  could  hardly  form  an 
idea  of  if  one  had  not  witnessed  such  scenes.  Professional 
magnetizers  take  pleasure  in  exhibiting  such  scenes  in  public, 
and  sceptics  decide  that  they  are  impostors.  This  they 
might  certainly  be,  for  there  is  not  one  of  the  phenomena 
which  cannot  be  counterfeited.  These  performances,  how- 
ever, are  not  necessarily  trickery,  and  nothing  is  more  real 
than  the  complete  subordination  of  all  the  intellectual  forces 
to  a  word  of  command.  It  seems  as  if  the  sleeping  or 
mesmerized  subject  had  no  other  concern  than  to  conform 
to  the  intimations  received.     One  idea  has  taken  possession 


SPECIAL  IMAGINATION.  1 63 

of  the  intelligence  and  has  become  sovereign  master.  All 
beside  is  as  nothing.  All  is  darkness  by  the  side  of  this 
one  vivid  idea,  and  everything  which  hinders  its  execution 
is  repulsed  with  anger."  ^ 


'  Ch.  Richet,  Revue  Philosophique^  Oct.  1880,  p.  365. 


CHAPTER   X. 

ON    THE    ELABORATION    OF    IDEAS. 

I. 

JUDGMENT. 

"  If  intelligence  cannot  exercise  itself  without  distinguish- 
ing and  comparing,  neither  can  it  do  so  without  affirming, 
either  explicitly  or  implicitly,  verbally  or  otherwise.  In 
other  words,  every  intellectual  operation  presupposes  a 
judgment ;  for  judgment,  according  to  the  definition  of  Aris- 
totle, is  an  operation  which  consists  in  affirming  something 
about  something.  We  cannot  declare  anything  without 
believing  it;  and  to  believe,  to  affirm,  to  judge,  are  all  one. 
What  is  it  to  perceive  an  object?  It  is  to  cognise  its  shape, 
position,  distance,  dimensions,  etc.,  etc.  To  know,  for 
example,  the  distance  at  which  an  object  stands  from  us,  is 
this  not  to  bring  to  bear  on  this  object,  mentally  at  any  rate, 
a  certain  affirmation  ?  Can  we  form  a  general  idea,  without 
affirming  that  this  idea  extends  to  such  and  such  individuals, 
and  comprehends  such  and  such  qualities  ?  We  see,  indeed, 
that  imagination  makes  us  conceive  fictions  or  chimeras ;  but 
even  then  we  affirm  either  the  possibility  of  the  things  which 
we  conceive,  or  the  desire  that  we  have  to  see  them  realized. 
In  short,  we  affirm  the  subjective  fact  of  these  dreams,  even 
when  we  do  not  think  that  they  correspond  to  anything 
external.  Thus,  in  a  word,  we  can  neither  perceive,  nor 
compare,  nor  abstract,  nor  generalize,  nor  remember  or 
imagine,  without  making  an  affirmation  or  a  judgment."  ^ 


*  Joly,  Coiirs  de  Philosophies  p.  94. 
X64 


JUDGMENT.  165 

The  above  is  a  psychologist's  definition  of  judgment  A 
physiologist  will  perhaps  explain,  up  to  a  certain  point,  its 
origin  and  working.  Judgment,  according  to  M.  Luys,  is 
only  the  reaction,  the  repercussion,  the  affirmation  of  our 
personality  "in  the  presence  of  an  excitation  from  the  exter- 
nal world,  either  moral  or  physical.  The  action  of  judging, 
so  far  as  it  is  a  physiological  process  accomplished  by  means 
of  the  cerebral  activities  in  movement,  is  decomposable  into 
three  phases,  which  are  as  follows  : — 

"  I.  A  phase  of  incidence,  during  which  the  external  exci- 
tation impresses  the  sensorium  and  rouses  the  conscious 
■  personality  to  action. 

"  2.  An  intermediate  phase,  during  which  the  personality, 
seized  upon  and  impressed,  develops  its  latent  capacities 
and  reacts  in  a  specific  manner. 

"3.  A  final  phase  of  reflection,  during  which  the  process, 
continuing  its  progress  through  the  cerebral  tissue,  is  pro- 
jected outwards  in  phonetic  or  written  co-ordinated  manifes- 
tations. The  impressed  human  personality,  in  fact,  expresses 
itself,  exhales  itself  in  its  entirety,  in  either  articulate  or 
written  language."^ 

This  interpretation  accounts  both  for  the  diversity  of 
human  judgments  and  their  greater  or  less  rapidity  in 
operating,  and  also  for  the  necessity  of  these  judgments 
which  are  common  to  the  species — principles  of  common 
sense,  which  correspond  to  whatever  there  is  in  common  in 
all  cerebral  organizations. 

If  to  judge  is  to  beHeve  something  about  something,  it  is 
evident  that  little  children,  like  young  animals,  are  conscious 
of  their  sensations,  that  they  localize  them  elsewhere  than 
in  some  part  of  their  own  persons,  that  they  appreciate  and 
differentiate  them,  that  they  know  themselves  without  hav- 
ing seen  themselves,  and  know  their  mothers — in  a  word,  that 
they  judge,  />.,  they  believe  something  about  something. 

We  have  only  to  spend  a  few  hours  with  an  infant  of  two 
or  three  months,  to  convince  ourselves  that  it  is  capable  of 


*  Luys,  Le  Cerveau  et  ses  Fonctions,      See  Eng.  Trans.   (Internat. 
Scient.  Series),  p.  289. 


1 66   THE   FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

forming  judgments.  The  little  Tiedemann  who,  on  seeing  his 
nurse  take  up  her  cloak,  guessed  that  she  was  going  to  take 
him  out,  and  instantly  showed  signs  of  delight,  went  through 
several  acts  of  judgment  or  belief.  He  believed  that  the 
person  who  approached  the  chest  of  drawers,  raised  her 
arms  and  took  out  her  mantle,  was  his  nurse ;  he  believed 
that  she  made  all  the  movements  just  stated  ;  he  still  further 
believed,  by  virtue  of  familiar  association,  that  these  acts 
would  be  followed  by  others  equally  well  known — the 
going  out  of  the  house,  the  ride  in  his  perambulator  between 
long  lines  of  houses,  amidst  the  noise  of  the  carriages, 
horses,  and  dogs,  the  sitting  under  the  trees,  etc.  ... 
All  the  things  which  he  believes  to  be  and  which  he  sees, 
all  the  other  incidents  which  he  believes  will  happen  be- 
cause he  has  generally  seen  them  follow  the  first,  are  modes, 
manners  of  being,  forms  of  persons  and  things  which  he 
remembers,  and  imagines  either  as  co-existent  or  as  follow- 
ing each  other,  they  are  so  many  sympathetic  judgments  d 
posteriori^  as  Kant  might  have  said. 

When  little  Marie,  at  three  months  and  a  half  old,  dis- 
tinguishes the  various  parts  of  her  body,  plays  with  her 
mother  and  strokes  her  face,  chatters  to  the  flowers,  stretches 
out  her  eager  little  hands  towards  them,  utters  admiring  ex- 
clamations at  the  sight  of  their  brilliant  colours  ;  turns  round 
towards  the  bird-cage  if  her  mother  says,  *' Listen  to  Coco !" 
understanding  the  gestures,  the  tone  of  voice,  the  faces  of 
those  who  speak  to  her,  laughs  when  she  is  praised  and  cries 
when  she  is  scolded ;  turns  away  her  face  dejectedly  so  as 
not  to  see  another  child  on  her  mother's  lap,  etc.,  etc. ;  is 
there  any  need  to  demonstrate  that  all  these  facts  imply 
judgments  of  a  very  characteristic  nature  ? 

Thus,  in  the  case  both  of  little  children  and  young  animals, 
the  only  debatable  point  is  the  degree  in  which  they  possess 
this  faculty  of  judging.  They  do  not  form  abstract  judg- 
ments as  grown-up  people  do,  but  they  go  through  the  same 
mental  operations  as  adults  at  the  sight  of  anything — a 
person,  an  animal,  fruit,  toys,  a  piece  of  furniture,  etc. 
I'hey  recognise  these  objects  as  having  been  seen  before, 
they  discern  in  them  such  and  such  qualities,  they  distin- 


JUDGMENT.  167 

guish  them  from  the  surrounding  objects,  they  discover  in 
them  either  a  resemblance  or  a  difference,  they  range  them 
in  such  or  such  a  group  ;  and  all  these  operations  presup- 
pose a  judgment,  or  are  in  fact  themselves  the  judgment. 

If  all  intellectual  operations,  even  the  most  simple, 
imply  in  a  certain  measure  the  operation  of  judging,  it  is 
the  association  of  ideas,  added  to  the  mental  grasp  of  the 
individual,  which  has  most  influence  on  the  formation  and 
nature  of  the  judgments.  "Two  minds,  constituted  exactly 
alike  and  placed  in  exactly  the  same  surroundings,  would 
develop  in  the  same  manner  and  would  produce  the  same 
thoughts.  ...  In  the  generation  of  an  idea  there  are 
two  sorts  of  causes  ;  the  state  of  the  organism,  as  dependent 
upon  anterior  impressions,  and  this  same  state  as  affected 
by  physical  conditions. 

Now  these  two  kinds  of  stales  vary  in  different  individuals. 
The  regions  of  the  brain  where  ideas  are  elaborated,  are  not 
equally  abundant  in  nervous  elements ;  and  these  elements 
are  not  endowed  with  such  strong  vitality,  are  not  so  im- 
pressionable, and  do  not  combine  so  well  in  one  individual 
as  in  another.  Hence  all  the  different  •egrees  of  brain 
power  and  aptitudes  which  show  themselves  in  differences 
of  judgment. 

Three  little  children,  from  eight  to  nine  months,  are  seated 
at  play  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  I  speak  very  loud  to 
attract  the  attention  of  all  three,  and  at  the  same  time  I 
place  at  a  distance  of  a  yard  from  where  they  are  sitting  a 
little  white  horse  on  wheels.  One  of  them.  A,  instantly 
utters  a  cry  of  admiration ;  B  opens  his  mouth  and  fixes 
his  eyes  on  the  toy ;  C  looks  at  it  with  indifference.  Five 
seconds  have  now  passed ;  A  throws  up  his  arms  and 
stretches  his  head  forward ;  B  also  stretches  out  his  arms, 
but  more  tranquilly,  and  as  if  in  imitation  of  A ;  C  looks 
on  at  the  agitation  of  the  other  two,  and  then  in  his  turn 
utters  a  sort  of  warbling  cry.  Four  more  seconds  have 
passed.  A  can  contain  himself  no  longer ;  he  precipitates 
himself  forward,  rolls  over  on  his  side,  knocks  his  head 
against  the  floor,  and  begins  to  cry.  I  help  him  up  again, 
whereupon  he  instantly  recommences    the   same   gestures 


1 68    THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

and  movements,  and  tries  to  crawl  on  all  fours  towards  the 
horse ;  B  up  to  this  moment  had  never  taken  his  eyes  oft" 
the  toy,  but  he  now  looks  at  me,  makes  beseeching  gestures, 
and  is  on  the  point  of  crying.  As  for  C,  he  looks  at  A  going 
on  all  fours,  and  seems  more  engrossed  with  this  than  with 
the  horse.  This  example  suffices  to  show  how  the  aptitude 
for  judging  differs — both  as  to  rapidity  and  quality  of  judg- 
ment— according  to  the  difference  of  impressionability  and 
personal  reaction.  The  older  a  child  grows,  the  easier  it  is 
to  observe  these  differences ;  but  when  he  arrives  at  the  initial 
period  of  speech,  the  most  superficial  observer  cannot  fail 
to  notice  them. 

Whatever  difference  the  varieties  of  organization  and  the 
accidents  of  intellectual  life  produce  in  the  judgments 
formed  by  various  minds,  there  are  nevertheless  analogies 
common  to  the  species,  and  also  general  similarities  and 
universal  judgments,  which  constitute  what  is  called  common 
sense,  or  reason.  There  is  no  human  intelligence  deficient 
in  the  ideas,  more  or  less  distinct,  which  certain  philosophers 
still  call  innate  or  primary,  and  which  would  be  better 
designated  by  i^  name  of  essential.  These  categories  of 
Aristotle,  subjective  forms  of  thought,  ideas  of  quality, 
being,  number,  time,  space,  etc.,  etc.,  correspond  to  the 
structure  of  the  brain,  the  constitution  of  the  human  mind, 
and  the  immutable  properties  of  nature.  Every  human 
being,  in  presence  of  external  phenomena,  cannot  fail  to 
acquire  them  at  an  early  age.  We  are  all  born  with 
intelligences  capable  of  deducing  them  with  more  or  less 
rapidity  and  energy  from  our  first  impressions.  And  thus 
the  theory  of  innate  ideas  can  very  well  be  reconciled  with 
that  of  the  tabula  rasa.  There  is  a  reason  in  things  which 
corresponds  to  human  reason,  the  latter  being  only  the 
product  or  image  of  the  former.  Reason  as  a  faculty  for  the 
production  of  pure  ideas,  does  not  exist. 

We  have  seen  that  children  of  three  months  go  through 
a  process  of  judging  similar  in  many  respects  to  that  of 
grown-up  people.  We  must  now  show  by  what  stages  they 
arrive  at  developing  this  faculty,  which  begins  by  being  a 
simple  affirmation  of  existence,  passes  from  the  concrete 


JUDGMENT.  169 

to  what  is  called  the  abstract,  becomes  comparative  judg- 
ment, and  extends  to  the  conception  of  similarities  more  or 
less  numerous. 

The  first  form  of  judgment  is  the  apprehension  pure  and 
simple  of  a  concrete  object  with  one  or  several  of  its  qualities. 
This  object  may  be  the  child's  own  person,  or  the  persons 
surrounding  it.  We  cannot  say  by  which  of  these  two  kinds 
of  apprehension  the  child  begins.  It  is  probable,  that  at 
first  he  exercises  both  at  once.  The  first  judgments  are 
nothing  else  than  the  immediate  application  of  the  child's 
mind  to  his  own  being  and  to  other  objects;  that  is,  to  the 
sensations  which  he  feels  himself,  and  feels  or  infers  of  other 
things.  But  just  as  the  first  judgments  are  without  distinc- 
tion of  subjective  or  objective,  so  they  are  also  without 
distinction  of  subject  and  attribute.  For  children,  as  well 
as  for  inferior  animals,  these  terms  remain  for  some  time 
fused  together.  An  oyster  has  some  feeling  of  itself,  and 
some  feeling  of  external  objects;  it  does  not  affirm  its 
existence,  but  it  feels  it  and  believes  in  it  strongly.  It  also 
believes  firmly  in  the  existence,  i.e.^  the  reality,  of  external 
objects.  These  are  judgments  of  existence,  modality,  and 
externality  implicitly  formed.  In  like  manner  with  the 
foetus,  its  own  existence  and  that  of  other  foreign  bodies 
affirm  themselves  to  it  from  the  time  of  the  first  conscious 
sensations ;  they  are  implicit  and  confused,  but,  at  the  same 
time,  real  judgments.  In  the  period  which  follows  birth, 
a  child's  judgments  begin  to  be  a  little  more  pronounced, 
without  nevertheless  going  for  a  long  time  beyond  the 
sphere  of  individual  concretions.  This  phase  may  last  till  the 
end  of  the  second  month,  but  with  a  more  or  less  marked 
tendency  to  pass  from  the  concrete  to  the  abstract,  from  the 
individual  to  the  general.  Noteworthy  progress  has  been 
made  in  the  faculty  of  judging  when  a  child  begins  to 
recognise  images,  and  still  greater  progress  when  he  expects 
certain  facts  or  sensations  to  follow  certain  appearances. 
This  is  what  takes  place  in  all  the  examples  cited  at  the 
beginning  of  this  chapter.  Primitive  judgment,  in  its  first 
phase,  is  a  discernment  of  perceptions ;  the  second  phase  is 
an  association  of  images,  a  suggestion  accompanied  by  belief. 


170   THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

Judgment,  properly  so  called,  is  already  found  in  due 
proportion  in  children  three  months  old.  When  a  child  of 
this  age  mentally  applies  an  idea  of  quality  to  such  and  such 
form  and  colour  of  any  object,— for  example,  when  he  dis- 
tinguishes one  kind  of  food  from  another,  one  animal  from 
another, — there  is  already  established  in  his  mind  a  tendency 
to  recognise  likenesses  and  distinguish  differences.  This  is 
a  mode  of  judgment,  very  poor  as  far  as  comparisons  are 
concerned,  and  absolutely  void  of  generalities,  but  which 
none  the  less  resembles  the  ordinary  judgments  of  an  adult. 
A  child  of  ten  months  begins  to  have  this  judgment  of 
existence,  which  I  will  not  call  abstract  in  the  philosophical 
sense,  but  which  is  separate  and  distinct  while  remaining 
concrete.  In  fact,  whatever  may  have  been  said  on  the 
subject,  judgments  regarding  existence  form  no  exception 
to  the  general  rule.  They  also  have  for  their  origin,  con- 
dition, and  occasion,  those  collocations  of  images  and 
representations  which  produce  in  our  minds  ideas  accom- 
panied by  evidence,  belief,  and  recognition. 

The  presence  and  the  absence  of  a  person  or  a  thing  are 
already  very  distinct  facts,  even  for  a  child  who  cannot  yet 
speak ;  for  him,  to  exist,  is  to  be  there ;  not  to  exist,  is  to 
have  disappeared.  Hence  he  understands  thoroughly  what 
is  meant  by  the  words  a-pu  {il  n'y  en  a  plus)^  which  he  soon 
learns  to  repeat  himself,  as  well  as  peudu  {perdu).  The 
judgment  of  existence  is  confused  at  first  with  that  of 
presence  or  absence,  and  relates  always  to  something  con- 
crete.    Children  are  capable  of  this. 

It  would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose,  that  in  order  to  deal 
with  the  evidence  which  supports  even  tacit  affirmation, 
judgment  needs  the  assistance  of  very  wide  generahzations. 
A  very  distict  image,  which  the  child  connects  with  the 
representation  of  an  object,  has  for  him  the  same  force  of 
reality  that  it  would  have  for  an  adult — it  is  to  him  reality 
itself  It  is  not  necessary  that  the  conception  of  always,  nor 
the  whole  number  of  known  similarities,  should  be  added 
to  this  evidence ;  a  few  well-grounded  experiences,  a  few 
similarities,  or  even  one  very  distinct  one,  will  suffice  to 
constitute  judgment  in  its  fullest  import.     Thus  we  see  that 


JUDGMENT.  171 

minds  which  are  limited  in  their  ideas,  which  contain  few 
images  and  few  associations,  are  the  most  thorough  and 
often  the  most  ardent  in  their  affirmations. 

If  we  look  carefully  into  the  matter,  we  find  that  generality 
of  thought  carries  with  it,  if  not  a  certain  vagueness,  at  any 
rate  an  amount  of  indecision,  which  may  have  the  appearance 
of  breadth  of  judgment,  which  is  often  the  precursor  of  it, 
but  which  is  a  necessary  stage  before  it  becomes  an  in- 
tellectual merit.  The  more  the  power  of  generalizing  is 
extended,  and  the  more  numerous  are  the  known  examples 
of  similarities,  the  more  they  suggest  ideas  of  real  differences, 
and  consequently  of  possible  affirmations.  Thus  the  savant^ 
or  the  man  of  experience,  will  hesitate  and  suspend  his 
judgments  and  actions,  where  ignorant  and  inexperienced 
people,  adult  animals,  and  children,  will  judge  and  act 
precipitately. 

It  is  because  we  are  ignorant  of  the  natural  course  of 
development  of  a  young  child's  mind,  that  we  imagine  his 
logic  to  be  at  fault  when  it  is  in  opposition  to  that  which 
we  practise,  and  the  principles  of  which  we  inculcate  on 
him  ready-made  in  our  language.  As  our  judgments  relate 
to  comparatively  general  conceptions,  at  any  rate  more 
extended  and  more  numerous  and  quite  different  from  those 
of  a  child,  the  words  which  he  uses  have  not  the  same 
arbitrary  signification  which  we  attribute  to  them.  To  him 
they  represent  facts,  whereas  we  make  them  signify  collec- 
tions of  similarities,  general  affinities,  etc.,  etc.  He  applies 
one  of  his  general  ideas,  that  is  to  say  a  particular  and 
empiric  term,  to  a  given  sensation,  but  as  our  interpretation 
of  his  judgment  is  not  a  relation  between  two  facts,  but  a 
relation  between  an  idea  and  a  fact,  we  find  the  statement 
false.  It  is  truth  to  him,  but  error  to  us.  Those  who 
observe  and  bring  up  young  children  ought  to  be  convinced 
that  the  progress  of  thought  at  the  earliest  age  is  in  relation 
to  that  of  the  faculty  of  analysis  bearing  on  objects,  rather 
than  to  the  progress  of  speech.  Too  often,  it  is  true,  we 
exaggerate  this  fact,  and  imagine,  like  Condillac,  that  infants 
are  capable  of  observing  "  down  to  little  details  even,"  not 
external  objects  only,  but  even  the  operations  of  the  mind. 

UNIVERSITY 


172   THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

According  to  this  old  theory,  but  lately  still  in  repute, 
children,  while  learning  to  express  their  judgments  in  words, 
also  learn  to  analyse  them  bit  by  bit ;  the  art  of  thinking 
is,  so  to  say,  the  art  of  speaking.  Yes ;  if  children  spoke 
their  own  language,  and  not  ours.  Condillac,  however,  by 
a  slight  contradiction  of  himself,  admits  that  children  judge 
and  reason  before  they  have  learnt  to  speak.  In  truth,  if 
abandoned  "  to  the  sole  impulses  of  nature,"  children  fall 
into  frequent  and  serious  errors.  Animals,  which  some 
people  look  upon  as  a  raw  product  of  nature,  often  make 
the  greatest  mistakes,  even  in  things  which  concern  their 
own  interests.  The  fallibility  of  instinct  is  a  fact  ascer- 
tained by  science.  But  in  the  case  of  children,  in  addition 
to  the  errors  which  proceed  from  the  spontaneous  use  of 
their  own  faculties,  there  are  a  great  number  which  we  must 
attribute  to  the  mistaken  meaning  which  they  attach  to 
our  language,  and  to  our  no  less  mistaken  interpretation  of 
theirs. 

The  first  business  of  developing  infant  faculties  is  carried 
on  in  great  measure  by  nature  alone  ;  and  her  method  is  by 
exciting  cravings  and  desires,  which  are  the  condition  of 
useful  exercise  of  the  faculties.  A  child  learns  chiefly 
because  he  finds  pleasure  and  use  in  it ;  he  acquires  distinct 
ideas  through  the  need  he  feels  of  disentangling  his  thoughts. 
He  acquires  them  for  himself,  by  the  simple  method  in  which 
he  uses  his  senses.  But  do  not  his  mistakes  arise  from  the 
urgency  of  his  desires  and  needs,  which  lead  him  to  form 
hasty  judgments?  This  may  happen,  and  indeed  does 
happen  often.  He  has  then  used  his  senses  badly ;  but 
the  error  may  be  only  momentary.  "  Deceived  in  his  ex- 
pectation, he  finds  that  it  is  necessary  to  make  a  second 
judgment,  and  this  time  he  judges  better  ;  experience,  which 
watches  over  him,  corrects  his  mistakes.  Does  he  think 
he  sees  his  nurse,  because  in  the  distance  he  sees  some  one 
who  resembles  her  ?  His  error  does  not  last  long.  If  a 
first  look  has  deceived  him,  a  second  undeceives  him,  and 
he  again  uses  his  eyes  to  seek  for  her.  In  my  opinion 
Condillac  greatly  exaggerates  the  judicial  power  of  chil- 
dren,— especially  of  quite  young  ones, — and  their  power  of 


JUDGMENT.  173 

reflection  and  of  reaction  from  their  first  decisions.  This 
correction  of  the  errors  of  sense  by  Tiesh  observations  is 
performed  by  children  unconsciously;  they  judge  and  un- 
judge  quite  mechanically. 

What  also  appears  to  me  extreme  in  this  theory  (adopted 
in  part  by  Rousseau  and  reproduced  with  eclat  by  H. 
Spencer),  is  to  suppose  that  young  infants  perceive  clearly 
"  that  pain  follows  a  false  judgment,  just  as  pleasure  follows 
a  true  one."  It  is  true  that  by  the  time  children  are  five  or 
six  months  old  (but  not  at  the  beginning  of  their  existence) 
they  will  already  have  acquired,  though  in  a  very  limited 
degree,  the  power  of  understanding  and  utilizing  some  of 
the  lessons  of  experience.  This  is  quite  true.  But  that 
pleasure  and  pain  "  their  first  tutors  "  give  them  infallible 
lessons,  "  because  they  teach  them  whether  they  are  judging 
rightly  or  wrongly,"  is  an  untenable  theory.  Pain  and 
pleasure  are  indeed  teachers  of  most  incontestable  authority, 
but  themselves  also  requiring  to  be  trained.  It  would  be 
equally  hazardous  to  hold  absolutely  by  the  conclusion 
which  springs  naturally  from  these  premises,  that  during 
infancy  we  make  rapid  and  astonishing  progress  because 
we  make  it  under  the  direction  of  these  marvellous  teachers 
of  wisdom.  The  inherent  susceptibility  and  retentiveness 
of  the  organs  in  infancy,  when  they  are  so  elastic  and  almost 
free  from  impressions,  the  very  nature  too  of  the  impressions 
at  this  period,  relating  as  they  do  chiefly  to  the  most  essential 
needs  and  being  comparatively  few  in  number  and  easy  to 
discern,  in  short,  the  preponderance  of  the  power  of  ab- 
sorption over  the  power  of  digestion  and  combination, 
count  for  something  with  the  teachings  of  nature  in  this 
rapid  but  superficial  progress.  It  must  also  be  remembered 
that  a  child  scarcely  a  year  old,  whose  faculties  and  claims 
have  increased,  finds  himself  in  presence  of  a  vaster  and 
more  difficult  work,  and  it  is  thus  natural  that  his  progress 
should  appear  proportionately  small.  Besides  all  these 
causes  of  error, — which  are  natural  because  they  result  from 
the  nature  of  things  and  from  that  of  the  mind, — and  those 
special  causes  of  false  judgments  which  result  from  particu- 
lar organic  predispositions  or  psychic  constitution,  another 


174   THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

important  and  constant  one  is  the  necessary  imitation  of 
our  language  and  intellectual  processes. 

Nature  always  gives  serious  warnings  with  a  view  to 
rectifying  the  numerous  errors  committed  in  spite  of  her, 
or  even  with  her  aid.  But  these  warnings  are  specially 
intended  for  adults,  and  intelligent  mothers  understand  how 
^  to  introduce  them  into  their  training.  I  knew  one  mother 
who,  in  order  to  prevent  her  child  from  going  near  the  fire, 
allowed  him  to  burn  himself  slightly  with  a  hot  iron  which 
she  held  out  for  him  to  touch.  The  child  thus  made  this 
dangerous  experiment  for  himself,  but  at  the  same  time 
safely  under  his  mother's  eye.  He  cried  ;  and  his  mother 
comforted  him  and  said  to  him  several  times,  while  showing 
him  the  iron :  "  It  is  hot,  it  will  burn  Edmund."  This 
experiment,  repeated  with  variations  and  always  in  the 
same  safe  manner,  taught  him  very  quickly,  and  by  the  time 
he  was  twelve  months  old,  to  be  afraid  of  the  fire  and  of 
any  objects  that  were  taken  off  it  or  out  of  it.  From  hear- 
ing these  two  words, -^^/  and  burn^  and  seeing  the  simple 
action  of  blowing,  which  is  both  a  visual  and  an  auditory 
sign,  applied  to  a  few  well-defined  objects,  he  had  learnt 
the  meaning  of  them.  He  even  acquired  the  habit  of 
making  a  gesture  of  repulsion  and  imitating  with  his  lips 
the  noise  of  blowing  when  he  saw  anything  near  him  which 
smoked  or  seemed  hot.  Thus  by  experiment  of  this  sort, 
and  by  the  simple  play  of  association  of  ideas,  we  may 
lead  children  to  form  right  judgments  about  a  great  many 
things,  and  to  act  in  conformity  with  these  judgments. 
Nature  and  the  child  itself  carry  on  three-quarters  of  the 
I  work  of  natural  education,  we  ourselves  must  do  the  rest. 

By  attentive  observation  of  children  we  obtain  a  multi- 
tude of  indications,  not  only  concerning  the  genesis  of  their 
faculties,  but  also  as  to  the  direction  to  be  given  to  them. 
For  instance,  children  of  their  own  accord  judge  by  com- 
parison ;  it  is  for  us  to  watch  over  and  help  their  judgment 
without  seeming  to  do  so. 

A  child  will  go  on  tormenting  a  cat  or  a  dog  till  suddenly 
the  animal  turns  round  and  bites  or  scratches  him ;  and 
then  he  says :  "  Bad  pussy,"  "  bad  doggie."    It  is  for  us  then 


JUDGMENT.  175 

to  make  him  correct  the  judgment  by  which  he  has  aflirmed 
his  conception  of  the  relation  between  the  idea  of  cat  or 
dog,  and  scratch  or  bite.  When  he  says,  "  Good  baby  "  or 
"  Naughty  baby,"  he  again  makes  a  comparative  judgment, 
bearing  on  the  relation  between  such  and  such  actions  and 
the  qualification  they  generally  receive.  Our  part  is  to 
place  the  child  frequently  in  positions  to  renew  such  judg- 
ments, with  the  use  of  the  same  formula,  ci  propos  of  actions 
and  events  of  which  we  cannot  always  actually  bring  about 
the  occurrence,  although  we  can  always  turn  it  to  profit. 
Thus,  without  crushing  the  child's  initiative,  we  shall  be 
doing  all  in  our  power  to  increase  its  store  of  observations, 
of  terms  of  comparison,  and  of  similarities — in  one  word, 
its  intellectual  sphere. 

But  here  the  great  danger  to  be  feared  is,  that  we  should 
aim  at  developing  children,  not  for  themselves,  but  for  our- 
selves. How  often  we  see  people  endeavouring  to  inculcate 
on  children  the  judgments  and  the  practices  of  adults,  with- 
out stopping  to  consider  how  much  their  young  minds  are 
capable  of  understanding  or  retaining.  I  will  cite  but  one 
example,  of  which  I  was  a  witness  at  a  table  d'hote  at  Luchon. 
It  is  the  custom  in  good  Spanish  families  always  to  leave 
something  on  one's  plate,  in  order  not  to  appear  too  great 
an  eater.  They  accustom  their  children  to  this  habit  by 
telling  them  frequently  :  "  PoUteness  requires  you  to  leave 
som-ething  on  your  plate ;  don't  forget  this,  it  is  politeness." 
At  the  table  where  I  was  sitting,  a  little  girl,  two-and-a-half 
years  old,  had  reluctantly  left  a  portion  of  some  sweet  dish. 
She  leaned  toward  her  mother  and  whispered  in  her  ear, 
but  loud  enough  for  every  one  to  hear :  "  Please,  mamma, 
may  I  eat  poUteness  to-day  ?"  It  is  thus  we  are  understood 
by  children  whom  we  do  not  take  the  trouble  to  seek  to 
understand.  We  either  give  them  credit  for  too  much  or 
too  little  intelligence. 

And  here  I  must  point  out  an  error  common  enough  in 
moralists  and  educators,  and  doubtless  also  in  parents,  viz., 
the  idea  that  children  are  good  observers  and  judges  of 
character.  This  requires  explanation.  Their  faculty  of 
discernment,   very  limited    in   its    scope,    is    always    con- 


1/6  THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

fined  in  rather  narrow  subjective  bounds.  Like  animals 
and  savages,  they  only  direct  this  faculty  of  discernment 
towards  the  most  salient  external  qualities,  and,  above  all, 
those  which  have  some  interest  for  them,  either  actual  or 
near  at  hand.  The  attention,  awakened  by  interest,  causes 
a  child  to  notice  a  thousand  diflferences,  full  of  importance 
for  himself,  though  often  of  none  whatever  to  other  people. 
That  which  generally  takes  hold  of  him  at  first  sight,  is  the 
expression  of  the  gestures,  the  physiognomy,  the  tone  of 
the  voice,  the  simple  and  common  sentiments,  the  broad 
signification,  rather  than  the  delicate  shades  even  of 
emotions  v/hich  closely  touch  his  sympathy.  A  child  of 
six  months  knows  very  well  with  whom  he  has  to  deal  (but 
in  respect  to  a  few  actions  only) — if  he  is  with  a  severe 
father  or  an  indulgent  one,  a  firm  or  yielding  mother,  an 
uncle  who  is  fond  of  playing  with  him,  or  a  sedate  aunt, 
lively  good-tempered  companions,  or  dull  and  surly  ones. 
He  knows  very  well,  even  at  this  age,  but  better  still  a  few 
months  later,  what  he  may  venture  with  the  one  and  the 
other.  In  like  manner,  animals  distinguish  their  prey  a 
long  way  off,  and  proceed  towards  it  in  a  very  different  way 
than  they  do  towards  other  animals.  In  the  same  way  too 
the  acuteness  of  sense,  or  rather  the  judicial  sensibihty,  of 
savages  is  exclusively  limited  to  the  kind  of  perceptions 
which  they  have  had  most  interest  in  discerning ;  just  as  a 
compositor  can  distinguish  by  the  mere  touch  the  letters 
which  he  wants ;  or  a  seamstress  can  pick  out  with  a 
single  glance  the  needle  and  thread  of  the  size  she  wants 
from  amongst  a  quantity  of  others ;  or  a  botanist  will  tell 
you  the  name  of  a  plant  which,  either  from  its  distance  or 
diminutive  size,  can  hardly  be  seen  by  other  people.  This 
faculty  of  discernment  is  a  matter  of  interested  habit,  but 
it  is  nevertheless  liable  to  numberless  errors.^ 


^  As  ideas  scarcely  exist  without  judgments,  or  judgments  without 
reasonings,  we  may  say,  that  error  is  generally  the  result  of  faulty 
induction  or  deduction.  We  shall  therefore  treat  more  particularly  of 
error  in  the  chapter  on  Reasoning. 


JUDGMENT.  177 

We  may  sometimes  notice  in  quite  young  children  judg- 
ments which  are  as  concrete  and  as  little  general  as  possible, 
which  in  an  adult  pass  for  general  judgments.  I  will  give 
an  example  bearing  on  plurality  of  repetition,  which  is 
almost  always  confounded  with  a  definite  number  of  times 
in  which  an  event  has  happened.  I  was  walking  with  my 
nephew  Charles,  then  four  years  old.  We  were  going  along 
a  canal  bordered  with  willows  and  alder-trees.  Charles, 
who  was  a  born  naturalist,  and  had  his  eye  on  everything, 
talked  on  without  ceasing  in  the  most  interesting  fashion, 
and  suddenly  showed  me  a  dragon-fly  with  blue  gauzy 
wings  which  had  just  flown  away  at  our  approach.  *' Gen- 
erally," Charles  began  to  say  (and  I  Hstened  attentively, 
asking  myself  what  this  fine-sounding  adverb  might  mean 
from  a  mouth  of  four  years  old),  "generally,"  he  said  a 
second  time,  "  dragon-flies  sit  on  the  leaves  in  the  sun- 
shine, but  not  always."  I  confess  I  was  surprised  to  find 
so  young  a  child  performing  thus  a  process  of  applied 
abstraction,  or  at  least  showing  a  tendency  towards  general 
abstraction  apropos  of  concrete  facts,  which  had  been  in- 
terpreted before  him,  and  of  which  he  had  understood  the 
interpretation. 

There  is  not  a  single  specimen  of  this  sort  of  abstrac- 
tion, resulting  in  practical  judgments,  of  which  one  cannot 
discover  the  rudiments  even  in  a  child  of  twenty  months. 
But  we  must  not  surely  expect  them  to  distinguish  between 
the  good  and  the  evil,  the  qualities  and  faults  of  persons 
and  of  things ;  or,  if  they  do,  it  is  only  after  the  fashion  of 
so  many  ill-educated  and  not  over-wise  adults,  without 
knowing  it  and  in  a  very  slight  measure.  It  is  however 
very  certain  that  the  ideas  a  child  has  of  its  father  and 
mother,  and  all  the  things  it  knows  are  not  simple  ideas  j 
but  that  he  has  formed  general  and  dominant  conceptions 
of  them — mental  wholes  from  which  he  is  continually 
cutting  off  abstractions  proportioned  to  his  judicial  capacity. 
The  people  he  knows  but  little  are  wholly  good  or  bad, 
without  modification,  like  the  heroes  of  pseudo-classic 
tragedy.  Those  whom  he  knows  well,  are  sometimes  one 
sometimes  the  other — chiefly  according  to  his  own  conduct. 

N 


178    THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

Thus,   within  very   narrow   Hmits,    his  judgment  proceeds 
from  the  abstract  to  the  general. 

XL 

ABSTRACTION. 

As  all  our  ideas  are  produced  by  sensations,  we  may  say 
that  each  distinct  idea  is  the  result  of  analysis.  "  No  one 
sense  presents  to  us  all  the  qualities  which  we  perceive  in 
a  body.  Sight  presents  colours ;  hearing,  sounds,  etc. 
.  .  .  When  we  use  our  senses  separately,  the  objects 
become  decomposed  as  it  were  :  we  observe  successively 
the  different  parts  of  a  watch.  Touch  is,  of  all  the  senses, 
the  one  which  reveals  to  us  the  greatest  number  of  qualities ; 
but  though  it  presents  several  of  them  synchronically,  we 
only  note  them  successively."  ^  This  necessity  of  analysis, 
inherent  in  our  organization,  may  be  considered  as  having 
two  principal  degrees  or  forms,  that  which  results  in  notions 
of  individuals,  and  that  which  results  in  notions  of  modes 
or  qualities,  or  abstract  ideas,  as  it  has  been  agreed  to  call 
them.  We  shall  study  both  these  forms  of  analysis  in  the 
young  child. 

The  most  important  stages  in  a  child's  progress  take 
place  when  the  senses  of  sight  and  hearing  have  come  to 
the  aid  of  touch  and  taste.  It  is  at  this  period  that  we 
can  begin  to  take  hold  of  some  of  the  manifestations  of 
the  young  intelligence  in  process  of  development.  We 
should  form  a  false  conception  of  the  first  visual  percep- 
tions of  a  little  child,  if  we  compared  him  to  the  blind 
youth  whom  Cheselden  operated  on  for  cataract,  and  who 
saw  difterent  objects  placed  before  his  eyes  only  as  masses 
of  colour  spread  over  a  plain  surface.  In  the  first  place 
the  sense  of  touch  has  not  yet  furnished  the  child  with  the 
conception  of  a  plane  surface,  and  secondly,  the  field  of 
vision  only  opens  out  to  him  gradually.  Tiedemann  says 
of  his  little  son,  when  only  two  or  three  days  old  :  "  His 
eyes  already  moved  in  all  directions,  not  by  chance,  but  as 
if  he  were  looking  out  for  objects,  and  they  seemed  to  rest 

1  Condillac,  Cours  d* Etudes,  t.  i. ,  p.  47.  Edit.  Dufart,  an  II,  de  la  Rip. 


ABSTRACTION.  1/9 

by  preference  on  things  in  motion."  This  observation  is 
not  strictly  accurate.  I  have  never  seen  any  infant  before 
the  age  of  eight  days  follow  any  object  with  its  eyes  except 
a  candle  or  the  flame  of  a  fire.  But  I  have  seen  many  at 
a  month  old  whose  eyes  could  follow  (their  head  all  the 
while  remaining  immovable)  the  movements  of  an  object 
waved  about  at  a  distance  of  a  few  inches,  or  who  would 
fix  their  eyes  for  a  length  of  time  on  any  brilliant  object 
two  or  three  yards  off.  In  proportion  as  a  child's  visuall 
organs  are  exercised  and  its  field  of  vision  enlarges,  visual  / 
perceptions  come  to  it  as  luminous  or  coloured  particles.      ^ 

In  what  would  be  a  picture  to  an  adult,  a  child  sees  only, 
the  salient  points.  His  eye  only  distinguishes  the  different 
colours  little  by  little,  and  the  want  of  adjusting  power  in 
his  sight  prevents  his  seizing  any  but  a  few  prominent 
objects  or  even  some  parts  of  these  objects.  This  must 
be  the  case  if  the  observations  which  I  have  recorded  in 
the  chapter  on  attention  are  accurate.  First  of  all,  it  is 
his  mother's  or  his  nurse's  breast,  the  bright  flame  or 
reflection  of  a  candle,  the  outHne  of  a  piece  of  furniture  or 
a  window,  anything  striking  in  form  or  colour  (these  are 
everything  to  children)  which  strike  his  retina  and  engrave 
themselves  on  his  memory.  External  impressions  seem  to 
make  their  way  to  a  child's  eyes,  as  they  do  to  all  his  other 
senses,  bit  by  bit,  colour  by  colour.  Hence,  to  perceive 
sensations  distinctly,  to  preserve  a  distinct  recollection  of 
them  apart  from  the  vague  complexity  of  the  concomitant 
impressions  which  have  only  very  slightly  aff'ected  the  senses, 
this  is  a  work  of  separation  which  may  be  considered  a 
sort  of  rudimentary  abstraction. 

With  these  primary  perceptions,  parcelled  out  and  isolated, 
which  we  look  upon  as  the  first  abstractions,  there  mingle 
by  degrees  secondary  perceptions,  the  whole  sum  of  which 
make  up  the  first  concretions.  Now  one  of  the  dominant: 
perceptions  will  recall  to  the  child  and  lead  him  to  infer 
a  whole  group  of  secondary  perceptions  associated  with 
this  dominant  one.  Such  and  such  a  colour  or  sound,  or 
any  particular  tactile  or  sapid  impression,  will  instantly 
suggest  the  idea  of  such  and  such  a  form,  object,  or  person. 


l80   THE   FIRST  THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

The  person  of  his  nurse  will  at  first  have  become  known 
to  him  by  a  continual  succession  of  analytical  perceptions. 
Her  breast,  which  afforded  him  the  keenest  enjoyment, 
and  against  which  he  nestled  his  Httle  face,  delighting  in 
its  softness  and  warmth ;  her  warm  caressing  hands,  so 
sympathetic  both  to  touch  and  sight ;  the  different  parts  of 
her  face,  her  eyes,  her  cheeks,  her  lips,  whence  come  the  coax- 
ing words  and  pretty  songs,  and  the  smile  he  so  soon  learns 
to  understand.  The  different  parts  of  his  cradle,  the  bars 
and  legs  of  the  chairs,  the  polished  surface  and  shining 
edges  of  the  table  and  the  surrounding  pieces  of  furniture, 
are  all  objects  from  which  there  have  come  to  him  succes- 
sions of  detached  impressions  which  will  presently  combine 
among  themselves  to  form  individual  conceptions.  But 
these  ideas  of  individuals  and  whole  objects  are  still 
extremely  vague  and  incomplete.  I  knew  a  child  of  two 
months  old  who  could  clearly  distinguish  a  person  from  an 
animal,  or  from  a  piece  of  furniture ;  but  he  used  to  smile 
indiscriminately  at  the  first  comer,  and  would  seek  the 
breast  of  any  woman  who  took  him  in  her  arms.  But  at 
three  months  he  could  so  well  distinguish  his  nurse  from  his 
mother  that  if,  when  his  mother  was  holding  him,  his  nurse 
cook  another  child  on  her  lap,  or  he  saw  her  being  em- 
braced by  any  one,  he  would  at  once  show  his  jealousy  by 
frowns  and  tears.  At  this  age  he  also  clearly  distinguished 
a  cat  from  a  dog,  the  former  having  scratched  him  more 
than  once,  whereas  the  latter  overwhelmed  him  daily  with 
caresses  ;  the  moment  the  dog  appeared,  he  always  showed 
great  delight.  One  month  had  thus  sufficed  to  fix  clearly 
in  his  mind  a  large  number  of  individual  conceptions. 

The  necessity  which  children  are  under  of  seeing  in  a 
detached  and  scrappy  manner  in  order  to  see  well,  makes 
them  continually  practise  that  kind  of  abstraction  by  which 
we  separate  qualities  from  objects.  From  those  objects 
which  the  child  has  already  distinguished  as  individual, 
there  come  to  him  at  different  moments  particularly  vivid 
impressions.  Thus,  I  place  a  beautiful  rose,  in  the  light 
of  a  shaded  lamp,  before  a  four-months-old  child :  his 
mother  holds   him  upright  on  her  knees  before  the  table 


ABSTRACTION.  l8l 

where  I  have  placed  the  pretty  flower;  the  child  opens 
his  mouth,  babbles,  holds  out  his  arms,  jumps,  throws 
himself  forward ;  his  mother  then  places  him  on  the  table, 
and  he  twists  and  twirls  himself  about  in  the  most  curious 
fashion,  looking  all  the  time  at  the  rose.  Is  it  not  probable 
that  this  colour,  which  appears  to  his  eye  without  any  pre- 
cise form,  and  which  has  so  keenly  excited  his  attention, 
will  remain  in  his  memory  as  a  very  vivid  colour,  without 
any  definite  concrete  embodiment?  A  few  minutes  after, 
I  lifted  up  the  shade,  and  the  strong  flood  of  light,  very 
brilliant  and  soft,  made  him  utter  cries  of  joy  and  jump 
about  more  vigorously  than  ever ;  the  rose  is  forgotten — 
he  does  not  even  see  it — he  is  wholly  taken  up  with 
the  lovely  golden  flame,  which  fascinates  and  dazzles  his 
sight.  We  may  be  sure  that  the  memory  of  this  bright 
and  flickering  flame  will  be  preserved  with  far  greater 
vividness  than  that  of  the  nearer  surrounding  objects, 
which  have  only  produced  very  feeble  and  indefinite 
impressions  on  him.  Dominant  sensations  of  this  kind,  by 
their  energy  or  frequency,  tend  to  efface  the  idea  of  the 
objects  from  which  they  proceed,  to  separate  or  abstract 
themselves.  Sometimes  even  in  their  waking  hours,  but 
more  especially  during  their  dreams,  when  there  are  no 
external  impressions  to  renew  the  chain  of  usual  associations, 
there  is  no  doubt  that  children's  brains  are  traversed  by 
impressions  as  vivid  in  themselves  as  they  are  vague  and 
undetermined,  and  that  hallucinations  corresponding  to  a 
sound,  a  colour,  a  tactile,  muscular,  or  thermometric 
sensation,  a  form,  a  dimension,  or  a  taste,  awaken  vivid 
sensations  in  them  without  being  accompanied  by  those 
feebler  sensorial  impressions  which  were  grouped  around 
them;  ?>.,  without  the  aid  of  any  definite  object.  H-ere  we 
se,e  reproductive  imagination  assisting  in  the  operation  of 
modai  abstraction. 

These  acts  of  abstraction,  resulting  in  individual  or  modal 
conceptions,  which  the  infant  practises  very  early,  have  a 
continual  tendency  to  relapse  into  the  confused  masses, 
the  indistinct  wholes,  and  the  various  concretions  from 
whence  they  were  drawn.     The  series,  I  will  not  say  of 


1 82    THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

impressions,  but  of  habitual  conceptions,  regular  and 
natural,  is  that  of  synthetic  vision  for  the  child  as  well  as 
for  the  adult.  The  individual  forms  are  so  many  and  so 
varied,  that  the  memory  allows  them  little  by  little  to  fall 
back  into  the  great  objective  mass,  vaguely  but  directly 
seized,  and  from  which  they  only  detached  themselves 
under  exceptional  or  temporary  circumstances.  The  qualities 
separately  perceived  in  these  entities,  however  striking  they 
may  have  been  at  first,  are  not  always  so  in  the  same  degree, 
cannot  always  equally  captivate  the  attention  or  awaken 
the  memory.  The  flame  of  a  candle  is  not  always  equally 
bright  or  flickering ;  tactile,  sapid,  olfactory,  and  auditive 
impressions  do  not  always  strike  the  child's  sensorium  with 
the  same  intensity,  nor  during  the  same  length  of  time. 
This  is  why  the  recollections  of  individual  forms,  although 
strongly  graven  on  their  intelligence,  lose  by  degrees  their 
first  precision,  so  that  the  idea  of  a  tree,  for  instance, 
furnished  by  direct  and  perfectly  distinct  memories,  comes 
back  to  the  mind  in  a  vague  and  indistinct  form,  which 
might  be  taken  for  a  general  idea.  In  the  same  way,  the 
essential,  constant,  and  necessary  qualities  which  analysis 
has  discovered  in  different  objects,  are  preserved  in  the 
mind  with  indelible  marks ;  but  though  the  remembrance  of 
these  qualities  may  very  often  be  unaccompanied  by  any 
series  of  distinct  impressions,  there  is  always  mixed  with 
it  a  vague  and  confused  image  of  certain  perceptions  which 
were  associated  with  them. 

Thus,  however  much  we  may  try — and  it  is  the  same,  I 
take  it,  with  more  than  one  psychologist — it  is  impossible 
for  us  to  think  of  any  abstract  idea  of  white,  red,  a  sharp  oi 
flat  sound,  beauty,  ugliness,  goodness,  vice,  number,  space, 
extent,  without  imagining  some  particular  object,  more  or 
less  determined  in  form,  to  which  the  abstraction  which  we 
have  conceived  mentally  joins  itself,  and  thus  becomes  a 
concretion. 

This  then  being  our  conception  of  the  process  of 
abstraction  which  Locke,  Condillac,  and  so  many  others 
only  regard  as  a  consequence  of  language^  it  will  not  se^n 
surprising  that  we  should  allow  this  power  to  exist  in  young 


ABSTRACTION.  1 83 

children.  Language  up  to  a  certain  point  fixes  and  defines, 
but  it  does  not  engender  what  are  called  abstract  ideas. 
The  most  abstract  idea  that  we  can  conceive  is  equivalent 
to  the  conception  of  the  most  abstract  sign  i.e.^  to  a  material 
idea— to  a  kind  of  simplified  and  refined  concrete.  This 
means  first,  that  such  a  thing  as  a  pure  idea  does  not  exist, 
that  it  is  a  conception  of  metaphysicians  and  algebraists — a 
logical  convention  ;  and,  secondly,  that  relatively  abstract 
ideas  (the  only  ones  which  we  admit)  are  even  in  their  origin 
independent  of  the  faculty  of  language.  M.  Vulpian  goes 
even  further  than  we  do  :  he  is  of  opinion  that  animals  as  ] 
well  as  children  possess  this  power  of  abstraction. 

** There  are,"  says  M.  Vulpian,  "abstractions  relative 
to  material  things,  or  rather  to  the  sensations  which  they 
produce  on  us.  There  are,  for  instance,  the  abstractions 
by  which  we  form  the  ideas  of  trees,  dogs,  red,  green,  such 
and  such  sounds,  etc.  In  a  word,  there  are  tangible 
abstractions,  formed  by  the  help  of  tangible  properties. 
Well  then  !  It  seems  to  me  difficult  to  refuse  the  capacity 
for  these  abstract  ideas,  in  a  measure  at  least,  to  the  superior 
animals,  for  it  is  evident  that  their  memory,  reflection,  and 
reason  are  sometimes  exercised  on  ideas  of  this  sort. 

"  As  to  general  abstract  ideas,  it  seems  to  me  quite  doubt- 
ful whether  animals  have  them — whether  they  have  the 
slightest  abstract  idea  of  infinity,  of  time,  of  space,  of 
dimension,  number,  connection,  etc.  What  confirms  me 
in  this  conviction  that  they  have  none  of  these  abstract 
ideas,  is,  that  I  am  not  sure  that  man  has  them  himself. 
We  are  here  at  the  mercy  of  an  illusion  which  has  been  too 
little  insisted  on.  Animals,  or  at  least,  certain  kinds  of 
animals,  have  a  sort  of  language  which  enables  them  to 
communicate  with  each  other,  by  modulations  and  variations 
of  the  voice,  or  by  other  special  sounds,  or  by  graduated 
contact.  Concerning  this  latter  mode,  we  know  nothing 
more  remarkable  than  the  antennal  language  of  ants, 
described  by  Huber.  But,  definitively  speaking,  these 
modes  of  language  are  very  different  to  those  of  man. 
Man  alone  possesses  real  articulate  language,  he  alone  can 
make  very  varied  abstractions  by  the  aid  of  this  language  ; 


1 84   THE   FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF   CHILDHOOD. 

he  alone,  I  need  hardly  say,  can  also  make  metaphysical 
abstractions.  But  from  the  fact  that,  by  means  of  certain 
words  agreed  upon,  we  have  been  able  to  designate  these 
abstractions,  we  must  not  deduce  as  a  necessary  conclusion 
that  man  is  capable  of  conceiving  abstract  metaphysical 
ideas.  There  is  no  possibility  of  the  existence  of  any  ideas 
unless  there  is  the  possibility  of  more  or  less  distinct 
intellectual  representation  of  them.  For  instance,  can  we 
represent  to  ourselves  in  an  abstract  manner  time,  space, 
etc,  ?  If  I  am  not  mistaken,  so-called  general  ideas  do  not 
exist  in  reality,  and  they  ought  only  to  be  considered  as 
algebraical  abstractions,  so  to  speak." 

Thus,  between  the  abstractions  produced  by  the  adult  and 
those  which  the  child  and  the  animal  form,  without  the  aid 
of  vocal  signs,  the  difference  is  not  qualitative,  but  only 
quantitative. 

If  we  take  a  child  at  the  moment  when  he  is  beginning  to 
use  language  with  tolerable  ease,  we  see  that,  in  spite  of  the 
signs  he  gives  of  deliberation  and  efforts  to  remember,  he 
is  always,  as  he  will  still  be  when  grown  up,  indolent  as  to 
abstraction  which  does  not  rest  on  an  objective  representa- 

^^tion,  sufficiently  determinate.  A  child  of  two  years  perfectly 
well  understood  the  sense  of  these  phrases  :  "  This  glass  is 
larger  than  this  stopper;"  "Baby  is  a  good  boy;"  "The  dog 
is  naughty."  But  at  three  years  of  age  he  did  not  understand 
these  expressions  :  "  The  size  of  that  house,"  "  The  goodness 

(  of  papa,"  "The  naughtiness  of  the  dog;"  notwithstanding 
the  resemblance  of  sound  between  the  abstract  words  and 
the  corresponding  adjectives.  A  little  girl  of  twenty- three 
months  could  recite  fluently  the  names  of  the  principal 
colours,  but  she  could  only  identify  a  few  of  them  on  objects. 
Her  father  pulled  out  one  book  after  another  from  his 
shelves,  and  showed  them  to  her,  saying :  "  What  colour  is 
that?"  '  "It  is  white,"  "It  is  black,"  "It  is  blue,"  "It  is  red," 
she  replied,  naming  the  colours  quite  rightly.  But  there  was 
one  colour  which  she  could  not  determine.  "  It  is  not  red 
nor  blue,"  she  said,  after  several  seconds'  hesitation.     Her 

father  insisted  :  "  What  colour  is  it  then  ?  "  She  answered  : 
"Not  red,  nor  blue,  nor  white,  at  all,  at  all."     She  could 


ABSTRACTION.  1 85 

not  find  the  word  yellow,  although  it  was  well  imprinted  in  > 
her  memory,  and  the  colour  yellow  was  also  well  known  to 
her  and  clearly  differentiated  in  her  mind ;  for  she  added 
presently  :  "  Like  little  girl's  hat."    Her  hesitation  proceeded  -, 
more   from   the   difficulty   of  evolving   an   idea   relatively 
abstract,  than  of  recalling  a  well-known   word.     In   fact, 
another  day,  she  made  a  mistake  about  green,  not  being 
able  to  name  the  colour  of  a  green  ribbon  ;  and  another  time 
again  about  yellow.     Her  father  having  said  to  her,  "  Go  and 
look  on  my  table  for  a  yellow  paper,"  she  brought  three  oi\ 
different  colours,  and  none  of  them  the  right  one.^ 

We  have  already  shown,  in  the  chapter  on  association, 
that  young  infants  possess  the  rudiments  of  the  ideas  of 
cause,  place,  time,  etc.  We  may  also  observe  in  them, 
among  other  signs  of  judgments  resulting  in  what  we  call 
common-sense  notions,  the  existence  of  the  notion  of  quantity, 
and  in  particular  of  numeric  quantity.  A  very  young  baby,  if 
we  offer  it  a  large  piece  of  cake  or  fruit,  together  with  a 
smaller  piece,  will  stretch  out  its  hand  to  the  larger  piece.  In 
like  manner,  a  kitten  two  months  old  to  whom  I  had  thrown 
a  piece  of  meat,  left  this  piece  to  go  after  a  larger  piece 
which  I  had  thrown  to  another  cat.  As  to  ideas  of  number, 
children,  and  no  doubt  animals  also,  confuse  them  for  a 
long  time  with  ideas  of  greater  or  less  quantity.  I  have 
been  able  to  prove  that  a  three-months-old  kitten  had  only 
the  vaguest  notion  of  number.  The  last  time  but  one  that 
she  presented  me  with  a  family  of  kittens,  I  only  kept  one 
of  them ;  in  her  grief  at  losing  the  others,  she  used  to  leave 
this  one  alone  for  hours,  or  else  carry  it  about  from  place 
to  place ;  it  died  when  ten  days  old,  just  as  its  eyes  were 
opening,  and  there  was  no  doubt  that  its  death  was  caused 
by  want  of  care  and  food.  The  next  time,  I  kept  two  out 
of  five.  She  was  perfectly  happy  with  these  two,  and  did 
not  trouble  herself  about  the  rest ;  and  I  could  not  but  con- 
clude that  ^wo  represented  many  to  her,  just  as  well  2^^  five 
did. 


Vulpian,  Physiologie  du  Systhtie  Nervetix,  pp.  911,  912. 


l86  THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

M.  Hoiizeau  does  not  deny  this  faculty  to  certain  animals, 
but  he  reduces  it  to  very  narrow  limits.  "  There  is  no 
doubt,"  he  says,  "that  certain  animals  are  able  to  count, 
whether  it  be  a  number  of  objects  or  the  number  of  times 
that  a  similar  action  is  repeated,  provided  that  the  number 
is  not  high.  This  is  the  case,  for  instance,  with  the  magpie 
(Pica  caiidata).  When  this  bird  is  watched  by  a  party  of 
sportsmen,  it  does  not  stir  till  they  begin  to  move  away.  If 
they  go  away  one  after  the  other,  the  bird  will  wait  till  the 
fourth  has  gone ;  but  beyond  this  number  it  seems  to  lose 
count,  and  sometimes  flies  out  of  its  hiding-place  too 
soon,  showing  that  it  has  made  a  mistake.^  The  following 
anecdote  proves  that  mules  can  count  up  to  five  at  any 
rate.  In  some  of  the  cities  of  the  United  States  many  of 
the  trams  are  drawn  by  mules.  This  is  especially  the  case 
at  New  Orleans,  where  mules  are  preferred  to  horses.  The 
St.  Charles  Street  line  has  a  short  branch-hne,  that  of  the 
Napoleon  Avenue,  where  each  mule  makes  the  journey  five 
times  before  being  unharnessed.  The  veterinary  surgeon 
of  the  fine,  the  clever  Dr.  Louis,  one  day  called  my  atten- 
tion to  this  fact,  which  I  was  able  to  verify,  that  the  mules 
on  duty  remain  silent  during  the  first  journeys  ;  but  at  the 
end  of  the  fifth,  as  soon  as  they  arrive  at  the  station,  they 
begin  to  neigh,  knowing  that  it  is  time  for  them  to  be  un- 
harnessed. 

"There  are  some  birds  and  quadrupeds  that  are  capable 
of  appreciating  number,  at  least  up  to  four  or  five.  How 
do  these  animals,  who  have  no  conventional  language,  suc- 
ceed in  counting  up  to  five,  and  perhaps  higher  ?  They 
must  have  a  certain  numerical  medium,  a  means  of  dis- 
tinguishing among  their  recollections.  Is  it  by  visual 
memory  and  the  juxtaposition  of  similar  images,  as  we 
might  count  by  placing  in  thought  a  number  of  trees  in  file, 
or  again  by  putting  counters  in  a  line?  We  cannot  decide 
this  question."! 

According  to  the  same  naturalist,  *'  Children  at  first  can 


Houzeau,  Factiltes  MentaUs  des  Auiinaiix,  t.  ii.,  p.  207. 


ABSTRACTION.  1 87 

only  distinguish  between  a  single  object  and  plurality.  At"^ 
eighteen  months  they  can  tell  the  difference  between  one, 
two,  and  several.  At  about  three,  or  a  little  sooner,  they 
have  learnt  to  understand  one,  two,  and  four — two  times 
two.  It  is  scarcely  ever  till  a  later  age  that  they  count  the 
regular  series  one,  two,  three,  four ;  and  here  they  stop  for 
a  long  time.  In  the  Brahmin  schools,  children  in  the  first 
class  are  only  taught  to  count  up  to  four ;  in  the  second 
class  they  go  up  to  twenty.  In  Europe  it  has  been  found 
that  it  takes  six  or  seven  years  to  get  a  child  up  to  a  hun- 
dred. Children  can  no  doubt  repeat  the  numeration  tables 
learnt  by  heart  before  this  age;  but  this  does  not  mean 
understanding  numbers,  or  being  able  to  determine  the 
numbers  of  any  given  collection  of  objects.  The  preceding 
examples  apply  to  European  children  of  medium  intelli- 
gence who  are  receiving  the  best  instruction. 

My  personal  observations  with  regard  to  little  children 
who  cannot  speak  have  not  furnished  me  with  any  indica- 
tions contrary  to  the  assertions  of  M.  Houzeau.  When  a 
child  nearly  three  months  old  to  whom  two  feeding-bottles 
are  presented,  seizes  both  at  once;  when  he  takes  two 
objects  rather  than  one,  three  rather  than  two,  when,  at 
eight  months,  seeing  near  him  two  cats  resembling  each 
other,  he  takes  one  for  the  other,  and  thinks  there  is  only  one 
cat,  he  is  evidently  confounding  the  idea  of  plurality  with 
that  of  quantity.  A  little  intelligent  child,  two  and  a  half  ^ 
years  old,  knew  how  to  count  up  to  twelve ;  but  he  had  1 
not  a  clear  idea  of  the  length  of  time  represented  by  three 
days.  "  I  shall  come  back  in  three  days,"  I  said  to  him 
once ;  and  he  answered  quickly :  "  What  does  that  mean, 
in  three  days  ?  "  I  then  said  :  "  I  shall  come  back,  not 
to-morrow  mornings  but  to-?norroWy  to-morrow,  and  again 
to-morrow"  and  he  appeared  satisfied  with  this  explanation. 
When  three  years  and  three  months  old,  the  same  child 
told  the  gardener  that  he  was  going  away  to-morrow,  and 
that  he  should  not  come  back  for  a  long  time.  "  I  shall 
come  back,"  he  said,  "  iit  many,  mafiy,  mafiy  to-morrows — 
in  a  year.''  This  last  formula  had  been  learnt,  but  not 
understood;  the  first  was  within  his  comprehension,  and  his 


1 88    THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

own  invention.  The  same  child,  and  1  have  remarked  the 
same  fact  in  many  other  children,  had  still  greater  trouble 
in  going  backwards  in  time,  and  it  was  only  with  great 
difficulty  that,  at  three  years  of  age,  he  learnt  to  understand 
the  idea  oi yesterday  and  the  day  before  yesterday. 

Another  child,  at  three  years  old,  had  only  the  most  hazy 
rudimentary  conception  of  the  abstract  notions  of  truth,  of 
moral  goodness,  and  even  of  physical  beauty  or  ugliness. 
"  What  is  truth  ?  "  he  asked  his  aunt,  who  had  said  to  him  : 
"  Come,  Charlie,  tell  me  the  truth."  "  It  is  when  one  does 
not  tell  lies,"  she  said.  He  knew  very  well  what  telling  lies 
meant,  having  been  once  severely  punished  for  saying 
something  for  fun  which  "was  not  true.  "Being  good," 
meant  for  him  to  be  petted,  not  to  do  things  which  caused 
him  to  be  scolded,  which  made  his  mother  look  sad  and 
his  father  speak  angrily  and  slap  his  hand.  To  be  naughty, 
on  the  contrary,  was  to  do  all  these  things.  But  he  con- 
founded the  idea  of  ugly  and  naughty.  When  two  and  a 
half  years  old,  he  used  to  repeat  over  and  over  again  : 
"  Such  a  person,  such  an  animal,  is  very  ugly  ; "  sometimes, 
but  very  rarely,  he  would  say.  Such  and  such  a  person  or 
thing  was  very  pretty.  I  said  to  him  one  day,  in  order  to 
coax  him  to  be  quiet  whilst  he  was  being  dressed  :  "  You 
are  a  nice  little  boy,  you  are  very  good  and  very  pretty." 
He  answered,  "  Oh,  no  !  I  am  not  pretty ;  mamma  told  me 
I  was  not  pretty."  "  Then  are  you  ugly  ?  "  I  said  to  him. 
"Yes,  sometimes,  when  I  give  papa  or  mamma  trouble." 
He  knew  the  difference  between  pretty  and  ugly,  but  he 
confused  pretty  with  gentle  and  good,  and  ugly  with  naughty 
or  disobedient.  He  had  not  yet  got  a  clear  idea  of  moral 
goodness  or  badness,  moral  beauty  or  ugliness,  but  he  had 
very  distinct  ideas  of  physical  beauty  or  ugliness.  He  would 
look  at  some  people  with  more  attention  and  pleasure  than  at 
others,  because  they  had  prettier  or  pleasanter  faces.  But 
we  have  now  said  enough  concerning  the  existence  in  little 
children,  in  a  rudimentary  and  concrete  state,  of  those  ideas 
called  rational,  which  are  both  the  result  and  the  basis  of 
the  most  ordinary  and  most  generah"zed  judgments  of  adults. 

In   conclusion,   if  it   is    not  quite  accurate  to  consider 


ABSTRACTION.  1 89 

abstraction  as  a  special  case  of  attention  operating  on  con- 
cretions from  the  lowest  to  the  highest  rung  of  the  ladder, 
let  us  at  least  admit  that  there  is  an  easy  kind  of  abstraction 
and  a  more  difficult  one;  one  kind  more  obtuse  and  more 
frequent,  another  subtler  and  rarer ;  in  short,  that  there  are 
degrees  in  abstraction.  An  individual  idea  is  a  synthesis  in 
respect  to  the  totality  of  its  parts  or  qualities ;  it  is  analytic 
as  regards  the  sum  of  individuals.  The  ideas  of  red,  blue, 
or  white  are  abstract  in  respect  to  the  ideas  of  the  flowers 
possessing  these  qualities  of  colour ;  the  idea  of  colour  or 
of  number  generally,  and  independent  of  any  coloured 
object  or  numerical  collection,  is  still  more  abstract,  etc. 
In  children  we  only  have  examples  of  the  lowest  form  of 
abstraction.  The  starting-point  of  this  faculty  is  no  other, 
than  the  faculty  of  discrimination.  A  child  who  dis-j 
tinguishes  a  certain  number  of  persons  and  objects — hi^ 
mother  from  his  nurse,  the  dog  from  the  cat,  the  table  from 
the  book-case,  has  already  made  abstractions.  Every  time 
that,  for  one  reason  or  another,  he  seizes  in  any  object  one 
point  of  view,  one  concrete  quality  which  stands  out  in  his 
eyes  from  all  the  others,  he  makes  an  abstraction.  Abstrac- 
tion of  this  sort  affords  a  child  intense  and  absorbing  sensa- 
tions. If  a  candle  is  brought  near  him,  his  attention  is 
fixed  for  a  moment  on  the  flame,  which  is  the  most  brilliant 
part;  if  several  objects  of  different  colours  are  shown 
him,  he  looks  at  the  one  whose  colour  strikes  his  eye  most 
vividly,  so  that  he  gets  an  idea  of  the  colour  rather  than 
the  form  of  the  object.  This  is  the__sort  of  abstract  ideas 
which  are  most  familiar  to  young  children.  They  are 
detachments  from  concretions.  The  proof  of  this  is  the 
difficulty  that  children, — and  often,  too,  adults, — have  in 
retaining  ideas  of  colour,  sound,  form,  and  still  more  of 
quantity,  goodness,  wickedness,  beauty,  ugliness,  etc.,  when 
the  objects  whence  they  have  abstracted  these  ideas  are  no 
longer  in  their  presence.  Even  language,  notwithstanding 
its  power  of  recalling  the  ideas  of  objects  and  qualities,  is 
not  equivalent  to  the  presence  or  the  distinct  recollection  of 
the  object  itself  for  reminding  the  child  of  the  particular 
quality  belonging  to  it  which  impressed  him  most. 


190   THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF   CHILDHOOD. 

We  may  say  that  abstraction  is  a  tendency  to  separate 
which  is  always  ideal  and  instantaneous ;  and  it  is  by  asso- 
ciating these  abstract  ideas, — which  for  a  moment  presented 
themselves  as  it  were  alone  to  the  mind, — with  some  con- 
crete idea,  that  memory  will  recall  the  ideas  to  the  child. 
Children  understand  very  well,  after  their  own  fashion,  the 
words  :  "  Papa  good,"  "  Baby  nice,"  "  Baby  naughty  "  ;  but 
they  attach  no  meaning,  during  the  first  two  years  at  least, 
to  the  words  goodness,  wickedness,  ugliness,  and  many 
other  familiar  ideas,  which  moreover  very  few  adults  would 
explain  without  the  intervention  of  concrete  ideas. 

It  is  not  therefore  accurate  to  say  that  children  shrink 
from  abstractions;  on  the  contrary,  they  understand  and 
like  them  when  they  cost  them  neither  labour  nor  mental 
effort — i.e.,  when  they  are  the  least  abstract  of  abstractions. 

"  Children  would  be  quite  content  only  to  look  at  things 
as  they  pass.  .  .  .  We  must  not,  however,  exaggerate 
their  indolence  in  this  respect ;  it  is  not  so  great  as  people 
think.  All  effort,  in  fact,  has  its  charm  ;  abstraction,  more- 
over, quickly  makes  up  to  us  for  the  trouble  it  costs ;  it 
produces  those  simple  ideas  which  the  mind  above  all 
delights  in,  that  clearness  which  is  its  chief  good.  .  .  . 
Abstraction,  then,  is  not  an  enemy  ;  quite  the  contrary  ;  and 
the  mind  becomes  discipHned  to  it.  This  is  why  it  is  well 
not  to  spare  children  the  trouble  of  thinking  under  abstract 
forms,  so  long  as  we  do  not  fatigue  them,  and  disgust  them 
with  study." 

These  reflections,  which  apply  to  children  generally,  must 
necessarily,  in  some  measure,  apply  to  children  during  the 
period  in  which  we  are  studying  them. 


III. 

COMPARISON. 

To  clearly  distinguish  two  individuals,  alike  or  different,  as 
being  two,  is  not  to  compare,  but  it  is  a  step  towards  com- 
parison. To  be  effectual,  comparison, — or  the  fixing  of  the 
attention  successively  on  two  or  several  objects,  or  on  two 


COMPARISON.  191 

or  several  portions  of  objects, — must  be  combined  with 
modal  abstraction.  It  must  lead  to  the  conception  of  a 
relation,  either  of  resemblance  or  of  difference,  cognised 
between  these  various  objects  or  parts  of  objects.  Com- 
parison, properly  so  called,  is  impossible  to  very  young 
babies,  at  least  for  several  weeks  ;  and  it  only  becomes 
possible  when  their  intelligence  is  sufficiently  developed  to 
combine  a  tolerably  distinct  vision  of  details  with  a  power 
of  attention  sufficient  to  take  in  several  objects  one  after 
another  in  a  short  space  of  time.  A  young  baby  has  not  a 
precise  idea  of  the  relations  between  things,  and  does  not 
look  out  for  them.  If  comparisons  are  formed  in  its  mind, 
it  is  of  themselves  that  they  arise ;  the  terms  come  together 
in  his  mind  and  remain  associated,  under  the  form  of  in- 
tegration and  disintegration,  of  concrete  resemblance  and 
difference ;  but  the  child  does  not  complete  the  work 
begun  by  chance,  he  does  not  perceive  the  bearings  pre- 
cisely, and  he  draws  no  conclusions. 

A  little  child  at  two  months  old  hesitates  to  take  sugared 
water  in  place  of  milk  ;  he  will  refuse  plain  water,  and  will 
get  angry,  scream,  and  gesticulate  wildly  after  having 
swallowed  a  draught  of  bitter  medicine.  These  are  all  so 
many  different  sensations  for  him ;  but  how  many  analogous 
experiments  must  be  repeated  on  a  large  number  of  objects, 
before  he  gets  a  clear  idea  of  the  quality  which  makes  the 
difference,  or  begins  to  examine  if  such  and  such  an  object 
has  or  has  not  this  quality.  In  like  manner  with  young 
animals,  if  several  bits  of  meat  are  thrown  near  a  puppy  or 
a  kitten  two  months  old,  they  will  take  any  piece  indif- 
ferently— probably  that  which  is  nearest ;  but  when  a  little 
older  they  will  instinctively  choose  the  largest  piece,  be- 
cause the  strongest  visual  impression  determines  the 
strongest  desire.  But  when  they  are  a  good  deal  older,  if 
these  experiments  have  often  been  repeated,  they  will  have 
acquired  distinct  ideas  of  size  and  even  of  superiority  of 
taste ;  and  it  will  now  be  deliberate  reflection  that  makes 
them  run  after  the  largest  piece  and  fight  for  it  with  their 
companions.  They  become  progressively  apt  at  com- 
parison. 


192    THE   FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

(  At  three  months  old  children  seem  to  apprehend  a  large 
number  of  resemblances  and  differences  ;  but  as  yet  to 
co«opare  very  little,  if  at  all.  As  I  have  related  above,  I 
once  offered  a  litde  girl  of  three  months  first  a  feeding- 
bottle  filled  with  milk,  and  then  an  empty  one  ;  she  lifted  the 
second  to  her  mouth  with  as  much  eagerness  as  she  did  the 
first.  I  then  offered  them  to  her  both  at  once,  and  holding 
them  close  together,  so  that  she  could  see  the  white  liquid 

j^  moving  in  the  one.  She  did  what  Buridan's  celebrated  ass 
would  perhaps  have  done,  had  he  had  two  hands,  and  been 
placed  between  a  bucket  of  water  and  a  peck  of  hay ;  he 
would  have  seized  them  both.  The  little  girl,  as  well  as  her 
awkward  little  hands  would  let  her,  seized  both  the  bottles 
at  one  grasp.  Soon,  without  letting  go  the  full  bottle  which 
she  held  in  her  right  hand,  she.  lifted  the  empty  one  with 
her  other  hand  to  her  lips.  Was  this  the  result  of  mere 
chance,  or  because  the  empty  bottle  was  the  easier  to  lift  ? 
It  matters  little  to  the  question  with  which  we  are  con- 

[_^cerned  here.  She  made  several  fruitless  attempts  at  suck- 
ing, and  then  pursed  up  her  mouth  and  began  to  cry,  letting 
fall  the  unsatisfactory  bottle.  Soon,  however,  she  became 
aware  of  what  she  had  in  her  right  hand,  applied  it  promptly 
to  her  lips,  and  sucked  in  several  drops  of  its  contents  with 
evident  satisfaction.  Up  to  that  moment  the  child  had 
seen  no  difference  between  these  two  objects ;  and  possibly 
even,  as  her  attention  had  only  been  superficially  directed 
towards  them,  she  had  seen  but  one  object  in  these  two  so 
nearly  alike. 

I  wanted  to  vary  my  experiments  on  her ;  and  knowing 
her  to  be  very  fond  of  brilliant  colours,  I  placed  before 
her  in  succession  some  engravings  of  different  kinds.  I 
began  with  pale  tints.  The  child,  on  seeing  them,  started 
forward  and  uttered  some  joyous  exclamations,  and  stretched 
out  her  hands.  But  her  joy  was  beyond  bounds  when  I 
placed  more  brightly  coloured  ones  before  her ;  she  felt 
them  all  over,  thumped  them  with  her  hands,  rubbed  and 
crumpled  them  up,  put  them  in  her  mouth,  and  gazed  at 
them  in  ecstasy.  I  varied  the  experiment  a  second  time. 
After  some  minutes  devoted  to  another  amusement,  I  placed 


COMPARISON.  193 

two  pictures  before  her,  one  of  which  was  briUiantly  coloured. 
She  threw  herself  towards  both,  as  if  they  were  one  single 
object.  I  then  showed  them  to  her  separately  ;  she  evinced 
great  pleasure  in  looking  at  the  more  sombre  one,  but  with 
regard  to  the  other  her  joy  and  excitement  were  indescrib- 
able. But  notwithstanding  that  she  had  been  so  strongly 
impressed  by  these  striking  differences,  they  had  been 
nothing  more  to  her  than  more  or  less  vivid  impressions  ; 
there  was  no  reversion  of  the  attention  to  the  objects  which 
had  produced  the  impressions,  not  the  slightest  suspicion 
of  difference  of  quality,  or  even  of  quality  possessed  in 
different  degrees,  not  the  slightest  attempt  at  comparison. 

From  similar  experiments  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  comparison,  as  we  understand  and  practise  it,  is  not 
possible  to  a  young  brain  of  only  three  months.  Is  the 
power  acquired  a  little  later  ?  and,  if  so,  in  what  measure  ? 
Here  again  I  leave  facts  to  speak  for  themselves,  without 
hastening  to  draw  conclusions. 

Some  years  ago,  I  had  two  grey  cats,  mother  and  son, 
alike  in  shape,  colour,  and  general  appearance.  One  day, 
a  child  of  eight  months  oid  who  was  brought  into  my  room, 
perceived  the  she  cat  at  a  little  distance  from  him,  and 
called  out  for  it  with  expressive  gestures  and  sounds.  I 
called  the  animal  up  to  me,  and  friendly  relations  were  soon 
established  between  it  and  the  child.  The  cat  raised  her 
head  and  her  back  to  be  stroked,  purred,  and  rubbed  itself 
backwards  and  forwards  against  the  child's  frock.  The 
child  squeezed  the  cat  in  both  his  hands  and  pulled  it 
about  to  his  heart's  content.  While  this  was  going  on,  the 
other  cat  came  on  the  scene,  approached  the  child,  purring, 
and  demanded  his  share  of  the  caresses.  What  was  the 
child's  amazement  at  seeing  on  his  left  hand  the  same 
animal  that  he  saw  on  his  right.  He  turns  on  one  side 
and  sees  a  grey  cat,  he  turns  on  the  other  and  sees  a  grey 
cat  there  also.  He  seemed  as  if  he  could  not  believe  his 
eyes,  and  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  see  more  than 
one  object,  his  mind  being  absorbed  with  the  vivid  con- 
ception of  one  alone.  What  could  have  been  passing  in 
that  little  brain  ?     The  eyes,  the  movements  of  the  arms, 


194  THE   FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

the  bending  expectant  attitudes,  all  testified  to  very  strong 
amazement.  But  the  uncertainty  of  his  judgment  did  not 
last  long ;  and,  before  the  end  of  the  visit,  having  seen  the 
two  cats  before  him,  side  by  side,  and  at  a  distance,  and  in 
different  positions,  he  carried  away  the  remembrance  of 
two  similar  animals,  without  however  saying  to  himself  that 
they  were  alike.  Experiments  of  this  kind  often  repeated, 
— and  they  are  repeated  every  day, — provide  abundant 
materials  for  abstraction,  and  enable  children  to  detach 
from  similar  or  different  perceptions  the  conception  o£^ 
analogous  qualities,  and  stimulate  them  to  make  com- 
parisons. 

C  I  knew  a  little  child  of  ten  months  who  made  a  great 
distinction  between  cakes  and  potatoes,  which  he  was  very 
fond  of,  and  bread,  which  he  liked  less,  and  also  between 
meat  and  bread,  milk  and  wine,  and  wine  and  water.  I 
subjected  him  to  the  following  experiment.  On  one  side 
we  placed  a  cake,  on  the  other  a  piece  of  bread ;  without 
hesitation  he  seized  the  cake  and  carried  it  to  his  mouth. 
It  was  then  taken  away  from  him,  and  it  was  a  sight  to  see 
his  wild  agitation,  the  energetic  movements  of  his  arms,  his 
face  purple  with  rage,  and  his  eyes  all  the  time  following 
with  fixed  attention  the  movements  of  the  hand  which  had 
ravished  the  cake.  Soon  the  bread  was  offered  him ;  he 
fell  into  the  snare  and  took  it ;  but  before  biting  it  he  re- 
cognised his  error  and  threw  it  away  with  signs  of  violent 

(_  anger.  If  one  wants  him  to  eat  soup,  one  must  not  allow 
him  to  see  potatoes,  meat,  or  fruit.  He  also  behaves 
differently  with  regard  to  his  own  playthings  and  those  of 
other  children.  He  has  no  objection  to  taking  possession 
of  their  toys  and  piling  them  up  with  his  own ;  but  if  any 
one  touches  his,  he  snatches  them  violently  away,  thus 
showing  that  he  is  able  to  distinguish  his  own  things  from 
others'.  Also,  if  two  or  more  objects  are  held  just  in  front 
of  his  eyes,  he  sees  clearly  that  one  is  not  the  other,  and  he 
also  sees  in  what  they  differ ;  he  compares  almost  without 
knowing  or  wishing  it — this  is  a  great  step  in  advance. 

This  slow  progress  in  the  capacity  for  comparison,  pro- 
perly so  called,  has  to  do  with  the  nature  of  the  attentive 


COMPARISON.  195 

power,  which  is  so  slight  and  fluctuating  in  little  children 
that  they  only  observe  objects  superficially,  even  those 
which  interest  them  and  appeal  vividly  to  their  sensibility  ; 
and  generally  they  only  observe  them  from  the  point  of 
view  of  the  particular  emotions  they  excite  at  a  given 
moment.  A  child  of  three  months  tries  to  take  hold  of,  to 
touch,  to  raise  to  his  mouth,  or  to  throw  down  anything 
that  comes  to  his  hand ;  and,  whether  from  curiosity  or 
from  the  need  of  using  his  restless  activity,  one  thing  is 
quickly  abandoned  for  another,  to  be  again  perhaps  taken 
up  in  a  few  moments.  A  child  of  this  age  is  relatively  so 
ignorant  that  he  finds  very  little  to  see  in  any  one  object, 
especially  in  inanimate  objects,  which  have  not  the  power 
of  living  objects  to  modify  themselves  in  all  sorts  of  ways 
and  to  keep  continually  alive  the  curiosity  which  they  first 
inspired.  This  is  why  very  young  children  who  cannot  yet 
speak  are  content  with  a  cursory  notice  of  the  most  pro- 
minent analogies  and  differences.  The  past  being  of  less 
interest  to  them  than  the  present,  they  feel  but  little  need 
of  comparing. 

But  from  the  age  of  fifteen  months,  and  especially  be- 
tween twenty  months  and  two  years,  when  words  are 
beginning  to  come  to  their  aid,  they  begin  to  make  large 
use  of  their  faculty  of  comparison.  They  are  very  little  on 
the  look-out  for  differences,  although  they  are  very  much 
struck  by  them  when  they  see  them  ;  but  everywhere  they 
are  on  the  look-out  for  resemblances.  I  have  even  noticed 
this  in  a  little  boy  of  thirteen  months.  As  one  of  his 
cousins  was  like  his  uncle,  having  the  same  sort  of  beard 
and  the  same  kind  of  figure  and  voice,  the  child  treated  him 
at  once  as  an  old  acquaintance.  He  called  him  Toto^ 
insisted  on  being  taken  to  him,  poked  his  finger  in  his 
eyes,  nose,  and  ears,  wanted  to  sit  by  him  at  meals,  found 
his  way  to  him  crawling  on  his  hands  and  knees,  as  soon 
as  he  was  awake,  in  order  to  play  on  his  bed.  After  meals 
he  insisted  on  being  taken  on  his  cousin's  lap,  and  thence 
proceeded  to  climb  on  to  the  table,  where  he  began  all  the 
little  games  which  he  was  accustomed  to  play  with  his 
uncle.      Seeing  a  pencil  in  his  cousin's  hand,  he  took  it 


196   THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

from  him,  put  it  in  his  mouth,  and  made  with  his  lips  the 
movements  and  sounds  of  a  man  who  is  smoking  and 
puffing  the  smoke  into  the  air.  His  uncle  used  to  smoke. 
When  he  got  down  from  the  table,  he  took  his  cousin's 
hand,  and  said  in  a  tone  of  entreaty:  "Z<?//,  lou^  lou^ 
lou;'''  this  was  explained  to  the  cousin  as  signifying  that  he 
was  to  imitate  the  dog,  as  his  uncle  was  in  the  habit  of 
doing,  to  the  child's  great  delight.  Out  in  the  garden,  the 
child  made  another  request  which  the  cousin  did  not  un- 
derstand, much  to  the  astonishment  of  the  former,  who  was 
accustomed  to  being  instantly  obeyed  by  his  uncle.  Thus 
this  child,  only  thirteen  months  old,  reasoned  and  acted  on 
the  ground  of  analogy ;  from  certain  resemblances  in  ob- 
jects he  inferred  others,  or  even  complete  similarity.  At 
first  it  would  surprise  him,  not  to  find  the  other  points  of 
resemblance  combined  with  the  first,  and  he  would  seek 
for  them  with  attention  heightened  by  vexation.  His 
cousin,  having  been  coached  up  in  his  part,  humoured  as 
far  as  possible  all  the  habits  which  the  uncle  had  made 
necessary  to  the  child  ;  but  some  he  replaced  by  ways  of 
his  own  ;  and  the  end  of  it  was,  that  after  being  with  his 
cousin  for  three  weeks,  the  child  afterwards  expected  from 
his  uncle  all  the  gestures,  tones  of  voice,  games,  indul- 
gences, and  acts  of  obedience  which  the  new  Toto  had 
accustomed  him  to.  The  parts  were  changed,  but  the 
intelligence,  the  sensibility,  and  the  will  of  the  child  worked 
in  the  same  fashion. 

f  At  the  age  of  two-and-a-half  children  compare  a  great 
deal.  They  frequently  use  such  phrases  as  these:  "baby 
tree "  (little  tree),  "  papa  tree "  (great  tree),  "  mamma 
duck,"  "baby  duck,"  to  signify  that  any  one  object  is 
larger  or  smaller  than  another.  A  child  of  the  same  age 
once  said  to  me :  "  You  not  naughty ;  baby  much  not 
naughty,'"'  wishing  to  express  that  I  was  not  naughty,  and 
he  was  still  less  so  than  I.  He  defighted  in  using  meta- 
phors to  excite  laughter :  "You  are  .  .  ."  then  he  would 
pause  to  excite  my  curiosity,  or  to  seek  for  an  idea  which 
was  perhaps  slow  in  coming ;  "  You  are  a  duck,  or  else  a 
leaf,  an  acacia,  a  k?nfef  etc."     These  were  absurdities,  but 


GENERALIZATION.  TQ/ 

they  indicated  habitual  efforts  to  find  out  likenesses,  how- 
ever ridiculous  they  might  be.  When  three  years  old, 
wishing  to  say  something  pleasant  to  a  little  girl  he  was 
very  fond  of,  he  said  to  her :  "  You  a  rat,  a  real  rat,  a 
pretty  little  rat  !"  Already,  for  several  months,  he  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  looking  fixedly  and  very  attentively  at 
new  faces,  to  take  stock  of  them  ;  and  after  having  studied 
them  for  some  moments  he  would  say  :  "  Beard  like  papa, 
blue  dress  like  mamma,  watch  like  grandpa.     .  ."At 

this  age  he  knew  the  names  of  more  than  twenty  trees,  and 
could  indicate  the  most  apparent  specific  characteristics  of 
each ;  this  showed  great  progress  in  the  faculties  of  observa- 
tion and  comparison. 


IV. 

GENERALIZATION. 

It  has  been  for  a  long  time  admitted  that  language  is  a 
necessary  instrument  for  fixing,  and  indeed  for  forming, 
general  ideas.  It  seems  to  me  however  that  we  may  observe 
the  rudiments  of  these  processes  in  animals  and  children  who 
cannot  yet  speak. 

Animals  furnish  us  with  instances  of  an  initial  form  of 
generalization.  The  farm-dog,  who,  by  virtue  both  of  his 
trade  and  his  taste, — 

**  Donne  la  chasse  aux  gens 
Portant  baton  et  mendiants," 

recognises  them  in  the  first  instance  by  their  dress  and 
their  baton.  These  specific  characters  are  engraved  in  the 
dog's  intelligence,  and  associated  with  the  mechanical  neces- 
sity of  barking.  It  is  all  very  well  for  Bossuet  and  his  dis- 
ciples to  urge,  that  if  dogs  bark  at  people  of  a  certain  aspect, 
it  is  because  their  masters  have  taught  them  this  quite 
mechanical  habit.  Why  then  do  dogs  not  confound  one 
beggar  with  another  beggar?  Some  beggars  will  excite 
them  to  fury,  while  others,  on  the  contrary,  have  the  power 
of  gaining  the  dog's  goodwill.  From  a  distance,  the  dog 
will  bark  at  the  one  as  well  as  the  other — this  is  the  effect 


198    THE   FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF    CHILDHOOD. 

of  the  specific  character;  but  on  nearer  sight  he  will  soften 
down — this  is  the  effect  of  individual  character. 

In  all  garrison  towns  one  sees  dogs  who  are  particularly 
sympathetic  towards  soldiers  ;  the  sight  of  red  trousers  will 
make  them  run  up  to  their  owner.  But  when  close  to  the 
soldier,  they  behave  differently,  according  to  the  individual ; 
they  will  caress  one  with  eager  joy,  another  they  will  treat 
with  indifference,  another  perhaps  with  defiance.  After  the 
general  idea  awakened  by  the  sight  of  the  uniform,  and 
which  is  equivalent  to  caresses,  friendship  and  play,  etc., 
there  rise  up  remembrances  of  good  or  bad  treatment  asso- 
ciated with  such  and  such  a  particular  resemblance. 

M.  Houzeau  is  of  this  same  opinion.  *' While  Huber 
was  making  his  splendid  observation  on  bees,  one  of  the 
hives  met  with  an  unforeseen  accident.  Part  of  the  honey- 
comb became  detached  from  the  partition  to  which  it  was 
fixed,  and  slipping  down  several  inches  rested  on  the  floor 
of  the  hive.  It  was  not  in  the  power  of  the  bees  to  raise  it 
up ;  its  weight  was  too  great  for  their  physical  strength.  So 
they  confined  themselves  to  making  it  secure  in  its  new 
position,  by  constructing  fastenings  of  wax,  with  here  and 
there  abutments  or  props.  But  at  the  same  time  they 
thought  of  another  necessary  piece  of  worlv,  that  of  consoli- 
dating the  different  combs  which  had  not  yet  met  with 
accidents.  They  fortified  all  the  former  points  of  attach- 
ment with  fresh  wax  mixed  with  propolis."  If  this  act  of 
prudence  does  not  attest  the  power  of  generalization,  we 
should  be  glad  to  know  under  what  name  it  should  be  de- 
signated. Bees  are  not  in  the  habit  of  thus  consolidating 
the  fastenings  of  their  honey-combs.  They  resolved  on  this 
precaution  after  the  failure  of  their  labours,  and  they  ex- 
tended it  to  all  the  combs  which  still  remained  in  their 
proper  position.  They  had  evidently  concluded  from  a  par- 
ticular case  to  the  general. 

Here  is  an  analogous  example  in  the  case  of  mammals. 
"In  October,  1859, 1  had  made  one  day  a  long  topographical 
examination  of  the  watershed  between  the  valleys  of  Rio-Frio 
and  the  Nueces.  My  animals  had  been  without  water  from 
ihe  time  of  my  departure  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning. 


GENERALIZATION.  I99 

Towards  three  in  the  afternoon,  I  had  finished  certain  sur- 
veying operations  ;  and  I  mounted  my  horse  and,  descend- 
ing the  side  of  the  little  hill  on  the  summit  of  which  I  had 
spent  part  of  the  day,  I  took  the  direction  which  would 
lead  me  soonest  to  a  watercourse.  After  crossing  a  stretch 
of  undulating  ground,  we  entered  a  large  prairie  almost 
bare  of  trees,  and  which  stretched  for  ten  or  twelve  miles  in 
front  of  us.  The  ground  was  smooth,  but  furrowed  at  inter- 
vals by  little  tortuous  trenches,  a  few  inches  in  depth,  hol- 
lowed out  by  the  rain  in  the  wet  season,  but  dry  at  all  other 
times. 

"  The  land  having  no  decided  slope,  these  various  furrows 
did  not  unite  in  veins  ;  but  ended  in  little  ponds  or  minia- 
ture lakes,  which  were  scattered  over  the  plain,  '  like  the 
spots  in  the  skin  of  a  panther,'  to  borrow  a  comparison  from 
Strabo.  But  at  the  time  when  I  was  crossing,  all  the  little 
conduits  were  dried  up,  and  there  was  not  a  drop  of  water 
to  be  got  from  them.  I  had  two  dogs  with  me,  who  were 
suffering  cruelly  from  thirst.  Scarcely  did  they  perceive  the 
first  of  these  furrows  from  a  distance,  than  they  scampered 
towards  it  full  gallop,  descending  unhesitatingly  in  the  direc- 
tion in  which  the  water  had  once  flowed.  After  a  run  of  a 
few  hundred  yards  they  reached  the  dried-up  pond,  and 
after  a  short  examination  of  its  solid  bottom  returned  to 
me,  evidently  disappointed.  The  same  thing  went  on  during 
the  whole  journey  across  the  plain,  which  lasted  till  the 
close  of  day.  In  this  space  of  time  the  dogs  explored  be- 
tween forty  and  fifty  furrows.  They  invariably  recognised 
them  from  a  long  way  off,  rushed  eagerly  towards  them,  and 
followed  the  dried-up  course  to  its  end.  One  could  not 
maintain  in  these  circumstances,  that  the  dogs  were  led  to 
these  lakes  by  the  smell,  or  by  the  effluvium  of  the  water, 
because  there  was  not  a  drop  to  be  found.  They  were  not 
guided  by  the  character  of  the  vegetation,  for  there  was  not 
a  single  tree  to  be  seen  either  along  the  furrows  or  by  the 
ponds.  There  was  not  even  any  particular  kind  of  grass  grow- 
ing, so  short  a  time  does  moisture  last  there.  The  dogs  in 
this  case  were  guided  by  general  ideas,  seconded  to  a  certain 
degree  by  experience,  and  of  a  very  simple  kind  no  doubt ; 


2CX)   THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   €)F   CHH^DHOOD. 

but  in  our  conceptions  of  these  furrows,  of  their  origin,  and 
of  their  use,  they  and  I  evidently  reasoned  in  the  same 
manner. 

"I  must  add,  moreover,  that  this  observation  is  by  no 
means  an  isohited  one.  I  have  simply  chosen  it  as  a  par- 
ticular case  which  is  safe  from  various  objections.  I  have 
many  times  seen,  not  only  dogs,  but  horses,  mules,  oxen, 
and  goats  begin  to  look  for  water  in  places  where  they  have 
never  been  before.  They  must  have  been  guided  by  general 
principles,  siiice  they  went  to  ponds  or  streams  which  were, 
at  the  time,  entirely  dried  up."i 

In  default  of  words,  the  actions  and  gestures  of  children 
will  often  indicate  to  us  what  we  are  warranted  in  inferring 
concerning  their  power  of  generalization.  For  instance,  a 
baby  of  eight  months  amuses  himself  for  several  hours  a  day 
seated  on  a  carpet  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  One  of  his 
favourite  toys  is  a  tin  box  which  he  likes  because  of  its  metallic 
sound,  but  especially  because  of  its  opening,  into  which  it  is 
his  great  delight  to  stuff'  anything  that  will  go  in  or  won^t  go 
in  !  He  has  discovered  that  many  of  his  little  possessions, 
such  as  a  pail,  a  little  cart,  a  bottle,  a  trumpet,  etc.,  etc., 
have  this  capacity  for  holding  other  things,  and  so,  when 
any  fresh  toy  is  given  to  him,  he  instantly  begins  to  examine 
it,  to  see  if  it  has  an  opening. 

The  other  day  he  got  hold  of  a  dressed  doll ;  aiid  he  tried 
to  stuff  a  smaller  doll,  a  piece  of  bread,  and  a  little  pliial 
between  its  legs.  Another  time  the  stopper  of  a  bottle  was 
given  to  him,  and  because  it  was  transparent  he  persisted  in 
thinking  there  must  be  an  opening  at  one  end ;  and  he  tried 
to  put  several  things  into  this  supposed  hole.  One  of  his 
favourite  tricks  is  to  put  his  forefinger  in  the  eyes  of  people 
who  hold  him  on  their  knees ;  and  this  makes  him  laugh 
very  much.  In  short,  he  has  acquired  a  general  idea  of  this 
quality  of  an  opening  and  a  capacity  for  holding  things,  which 
he  has  discovered  in  so  many  objects,  and  which  he  now 
seeks  foi  in  everything. 

^  Houzeau,  Ehtdes  siir  Ics  Faatl/es  Mcntales  des  Ani;naux,  t.  i.,  pp. 
2^4,  etc. 


GENERALIZATION.  201 

A  child  of  eight  months  old  always  made  starts  of  delight 
at  the  sight  of  any  young  or  pretty  person.  Must  there  not 
have  been  in  this  case  a  distinction  between  a  pleasant 
and  an  unpleasant  appearance,  which  the  child  seized  at 
first  sight  in  all  persons  who  came  under  his  notice  ?  This 
again  was  the  germ  of  a  general  idea.  The  same  child, 
when  a  fortnight  older,  manifested  a  desire  for  solid  food, 
which  he  always  recognised  as  such  amongst  many  -other 
things ;  whether  it  were  bread,  cheese,  butter,  fruit,  meat, 
or  sugar,  he  would  lean  towards  it,  stretching  out  his  hand 
and  making  a  vaguely  articulate  sound  like  "  wroua  " ;  he 
never  did  this  when  asking  for  his  feeding-bottle  or  his 
mother's  breast.  At  nine  months  old,  the  sight  of  a  dog, 
a  cat,  a  chicken,  or  a  bird  would  send  him  into  raptures  \ 
and  he  would  hold  out  his  arms,  and  look  significantly  at 
the  person  who  was  caressing  the  animal,  as  much  as  to  say 
that  he  wanted  to  go  close  up  to  it.  His  movements  for 
begging,  and  afterwards  for  showing  his  joy,  always  finished 
up  with  the  repetition  of  the  syllables  appa  !  appa  I  appa  ! 
Thus  he  had  a  distinct  idea,  which,  up  to  a  certain  point,  was 
also  a  general  one,  of  solid  food  and  of  animal,  although  he 
did  not  yet  designate  any  of  the  individuals  comprised  in 
these  two  classes  of  objects  by  special  names  corresponding 
to  the  special  qualities  he  did  not  fail  to  remark  in  them. 
At  eleven  months  the  exclamation  expressing  a  general  idea 
was  changed  into  ah  /  and  a  few  of  his  specific  ideas  were 
expressed  by  words  of  his  own  which  need  not  be  quoted 
lie:e. 

At  the  time  when  every  one  admits  that  children  pos- 
sess general  ideas,  that  is,  when  they  can  express  a  good 
many  of  them  by  words,  we  can  observe  in  them  other 
general  ideas  which  are  not  expressed  by  words.  A  little 
child  of  thirteen  months  knows  very  well  how  to  say  7?iafyc 
{marcher)  when  he  wants  some  one  to  take  his  hand  and 
lead  him  about.  But  if  his  wish  is  refused,  he  knows  how 
to  fall  back  on  his  own  resources ;  he  leaves  the  person  who 
is  holding  him,  slips  down  on  the  ground,  and  crawls  along 
on  his  stomach.  Whether  he  wants  to  go  straight  along  or 
to  make  detours,  to  go  up  stairs,  or  even  down  stairs  (which 


202    THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

he  does  less  adroitly,  and  not  without  tumbles),  crawling  is 
his  general  means  of  getting  along  by  himself. 

If,  when  he  is  seated  on  the  ground,  the  fancy  suddenly 
seizes  him  to  get  up  by  leaning  on  his  two  hands,  once 
upright  on  his  legs,  he  is  very  often  much  embarrassed  by 
his  vertical  position  ;  and  he  will  entreat  the  first  comer  for 
a  hand,  whether  it  is  a. person  he  knows  or  not.  Here 
again  is  a  clear  idea  of  a  general  means  of  getting  out  of  his 
difficulty — to  take  hold  of  the  hand  of  another  person. 
This  same  child,  who  designates  by  the  word  peau-peau 
{chapeau)  every  species  of  headgear,  bonnet,  hat,  night-cap, 
etc.,  etc.,  always  puts  on  his  head  any  object  of  the  kind 
that  is  within  his  reach.  There  are  also  a  certain  number 
of  things  which  he  mistakes  for  this  article  of  clothing,  as 
for  instance  his  nurse's  basket,  a  paper-bag,  a  dish-cover,  a 
lamp-shade,  a  handkerchief,  and  other  objects,  whose  shape 
recalls  more  or  less  the  idea  of  an  object  suitable  for  cover- 
ing the  head.  This  general  idea  has  thus  assumed  extensive 
dimensions  in  his  mind. 

From  all  these  facts,  which  each  one  can  multiply  for  him- 
self at  pleasure,  we  infer  the  existence  in  quite  young  chil- 
dren of  general  ideas  independent  of  language.  When  any 
particular  characteristic  has  struck  them  vividly  in  a  certain 
number  of  objects,  it  begins  to  fix  itself  in  their  intelligence 
in  the  shape  of  an  abstraction,  that  is  to  say,  of  a  very  clear 
idea  but  no  longer  associated  with  the  precise  idea  of  certain 
objects.  It  is  a  sort  of  analogy  summed  up  in  a  vivid  con- 
ception which  every  object  more  or  less  similar  is  capable 
of  reviving.  When  a  means  of  fixing  this  conception  is 
acquired,  it  assumes  definite  limits,  either  contracting  or 
expanding,  and  becomes  a  true  general  conception.  Words 
are  only  a  more  simple  and  efficacious  means  of  recall  than 
the  pure  sensation  which  was  formerly  wont  to  re-awaken  this 
idea.  Whatever  may  have  been  said  about  it,  language  is 
more  an  instrument  for  defining  and  fixing  than  for  forming 
general  ideas. 

Let  us  observe  a  child  generalizing  after  our  example,  but 
in  his  own  fashion,  with  the  words  which  we  have  taught 
him.     To  know  things,  is  to  distinguish  the  principal  boun- 


GENERALIZATION.  203 


n 


daries  which  separate  them  into  different  classes.  To  know 
a  language,  is  not  only  to  know  words,  but  things,  to  have  at 
one's  finger's  end,  ready  for  daily  use,  all  the  observations, 
ai¥l  experiences  which  language  comprises.  We  can  clearly 
see  the  part  that  words  play  in  the  working  of  thought,  by 
noticing  the  irrepressible  tendency  of  children,  I  do  not  say 
to  classify,  but  at  once  to  connect  a  known  term  with  the 
various  objects  they  see.  With  their  unconscious  and  happy 
audacity  they  often  give  us  most  interesting  examples  of 
inferior  generalization.  Reason  in  children  is,  generally 
speaking,  nothing  more  than  comparison  as  little  abstract  as 
possible.  •  The  town  of  Tarbes  has  a  pretty  public  garden 
which  bears  the  name  of  the  donor.  A  child  from  Bordeaux 
twenty  months  old,  said  to  us  :  "  There  is  a  jardin  Massey 
at  Bordeaux."  A  child  fifteen  months  old  has  a  wooden 
horse  christened  dada.  He  only  needed  one  single  ex- 
ample, one  single  resemblance,  to  apply  this  word  dada  to 
one  single  horse  (in  which  he  was  somewhat  aided  by  his 
parents),  and  afterwards  he  would  apply  it  instantly  to  every 
horse  he  saw.  Here  again  there  are  only  particular  simi- 
larities, not  conceptions  that  can  be  called  general.  In  the 
middle  of  a  court-yard  filled  with  all  sorts  of  animals,  the 
child  saw  some  chickens,  which  he  called  koko,  from  the 
name  of  his  canary  and  turtle-dove ;  he  saw  some  ducks  and 
geese  swimming  in  a  pond,  and  he  reduced  them  to  one 
and  the  same  species — the  duck  ;  a  swan  also  is  to  him  a 
duck.  The  broad  lines  of  classification  are  already  defi- 
nitely acquired  by  the  age  of  three ;  and  a  single  point  of 
resemblance  suffices  for  the  first  rough  outline,  an  enumera-v 
tion  (of  instances)  far  from  complete,  for  subsequently  j 
extending  and  confirming  them. 

There  is,  I  think,  some  subtlety  in  the  following  mode  of 
reasoning :  "  If  it  is  true  that  the  distinct  general  idea  is 
posterior  to  confused  particular  ideas,  conversely  it  may  be 
true  to  say  that  the  confused  general  idea  is  anterior  to  the 
distinct  particular  idea.  Thus,  the  idea  of  man,  in  so  far  as 
it  is  characterized  by  the  abstract  and  classical  definition  of 
a  reasonable  animal,  or  by  the  zoological  definition,  pre- 
supposes doubtless  a  comparison  between  many  individual 


204  THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

men  ;  but  the  confused  sense  of  what  there  is  in  common 
between  all  men  is  pre-existent  to  the  definite  distinction  of 
individuals  :  for  instance,  it  takes  a  child  some  time  to  dis- 
tinguish his  father  from  other  men  ;  it  takes  a  dog  some 
time  to  distinguish  his  master.  It  has  been  said  with 
reason,  that  the  faculty  of  generalizing  is  a  characteristic  of 
intelh'gence  :  it  may  also  be  said,  that  the  faculty  of  indi- 
vidualizing is  no  less  essential  a  sign."  ^  I  accept  the 
conclusion,  but  I  make  my  reserve  as  to  the  premises. 
When  a  child  applies  the  word  papa  to  all  the  individuals 
who  resemble  his  father  generally,  he  only  sees  in  them  a 
particular  resemblance.  The  author  above  quoted  sees  in 
this  an  absolutely  generalizing  tendency,  and  he  confirms 
his  opinion  by  adding  :  "  One  does  not  find  that  little 
children  generalize  the  word  mamma  like  the  word  papa. 
This  no  doubt  is  owing  to  the  fact  that,  being  more  with 
their  mother  than  with  their  father,  they  individualize  her 
better."  Might  not  one  reason  for  this  difference  (which 
must  not  be  exaggerated)  be,  the  habit  that  the  mother  and 
the  women  about  a  child  have  of  making  particular  demon- 
strations at  every  appearance  of  the  father  ?  "  See,  there's 
papa !  Where  is  papa  ?  Look  at  papa.  Say,  '  How  do  you 
do '  to  papa,"  etc.  Thus  instructed,  the  child  sees  papa 
everywhere,  and  when  he  begins  to  speak  brings  out  the 
word  papa  at  all  moments,  in  season  and  out  of  season. 
Moreover,  are  there  no  examples  of  children  generalizing  the 
word  "mamma"  in  quite  as  elementary  a  fashion  as  the  word 
"  papa  *'  ?  Here  is  one,  at  any  rate.  A  child,  three  years 
and  five  months  old,  had  returned  with  his  parents  from 
Tarbes,  where  he  had  spent  more  than  a  month.  At  the 
beginning  of  the  journey,  he  asked  every  ten  minutes  where 
were  his  aunts  and  his  grandmother  ?  What  were  they 
saying?  When  would  he  go  back  to  Tarbes  ?  Afterwards 
he  attracted  the  attention  of  a  lady,  whom  he  amused  by 
singing  to  her  ''St.  Anthony,"  ''Little  Ida,"  "Marlborough," 
and  the  "Little  Bird."  Then  he  became  confidential  to- 
wards her.    He  told  her  that  he  hdid  Jive  mammas ;  first  of  all 

^  P.  Janet,  TrailS  Elhneniaire  de  Philosophies  •^.  165. 


GENERALIZATION.  205 

his  mother,  then  Aunt  P.,  Aunt  V.,  Grandmamma  of  Tarbes, 
and  Grandmamma  Louise;  the  mother  of  tlie  latter,  the  great 
grandmother,  was  not  a  mamma.  "  But,"  said  the  lady  to 
him,  ''  Aunt  V.  is  not  your  mamma  !  "  "  Oh,  yes;  because 
she  takes  care  of  me."  Then  he  began  to  imitate  a  grocer, 
his  mother's  grocer,  the  only  one  he  had  ever  seen. 
Grandmamma  Louise  had  given  him  a  little  grocer's  shop. 
He  said  that  he  sold  a  great  many  goods,  "  M.  Francois  and 
Mme.  Collette  "  (the  heroes  of  a  little  story  that  had  been 
told  to  the  child)  "often  have  colds,  and  then  they  come  to 
buy  the  little  black  bonbons  of  me."  Here  everything  is 
particular — the  matter,  the  form,  and  even  the  incidents, 
which  may  vary  according  to  the  characters  of  the  children, 
the  vivacity  of  their  imagination,  the  education  they  receive, 
and  Bbove  all  the  examples  set  them. 

We  can  now  affirm  that  children  do  not  begin,  either  by 
general  conceptions  or  by  terms  which  they  transfer  from 
the  individual  to  the  general,  in  virtue  of  that  primitive 
tendency  to  generalization  which,  according  to  some  philo- 
sophers is  exercised  before  any  individual  discrimination. 
Max  Miiller  has  said,  and  M.  Taine  has  repeated  after 
him,  that  there  are  no  general  ideas  without  words. 
"There  is  in  every  language,"  says  Max  Miiller,  "a  cer- 
tain layer  of  words  which  may  be  called  purely  emotional. 
It  is  smaller  or  larger  according  to  the  genius  and  history 
of  each  nation,  but  it  is  never  quite  concealed  by  the  later 
strata  of  rational  speech.  Most  interjections,  most  imitative 
words,  belong  to  this  class.  They  are  perfectly  clear  in 
their  character  and  origin,  and  it  could  never  be  maintained 
that  they  rest  on  general  concepts.  But,  if  we  deduct  that 
inorganic  stratum,  all  the  rest  of  language,  whether  among 
ourselves  or  among  the  lowest  barbarians,  can  be  traced 
back  to  roots,  and  every  one  of  these  roots  is  the  sign  of  a 
general  concept.  This  is  the  most  important  discovery  of 
the  science  of  language.  .  .  .  These  concepts  are 
formed  by  what  is  called  the  faculty  of  abstraction,  a  very 
expressive  term,  which  designates  the  action  of  decompos- 
ing sensuous  intuitions  into  their  constituent  parts,  of 
stripping  each  part  of  its  momentary  and  concrete  character. 


206   THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

.  .  .  How  is  this  work  of  the  human  intellect,  the 
forming  and  handling  of  concepts,  carried  on  ?  Are  con- 
cepts possible,  or,  at  least,  are  concepts  ever  realized,  with- 
out some  outward  form  or  body  ?  I  say  decidedly.  No.  If 
the  science  of  language  has  proved  anything,  it  has  proved 
that  conceptual  or  discursive  thought  can  be  carried  on  by 
words  only.  There  is  no  thought  without  words,  as  little 
as  there  are  words  without  thought !  "  i 

M.  Taine,  who  quotes  this  passage  from  Max  Miiller, 
adopting  the  opinions  it  expresses,  has  considerably  en- 
larged on  this  interesting  subject.  In  a  chapter  of  his 
book  on  "  Intelligence,"  where  he  has  collected  together 
observations  of  the  same  nature  as  those  of  Tiedemann,  he 
speaks  appreciatively,  as  a  free  disciple  of  Locke,  of  a  cer- 
tain number  of  facts  relative  to  the  formation  of  general 
ideas  in  children.  He  attributes  the  origin  of  general  ideas 
simultaneously  with  general  terms,  or  on  the  occasion  of 
the  latter,  to  an  operation  special  to  man,  which  he  desig- 
nates under  the  vague  term  of  tendency  to  generalization. 
The  examples  which  he  has  brought  forward  in  support  ot 
his  theory,  will  lead  us  to  very  different  conclusions  from 
his. 

"  The  formation  of  these  general  names  may  be  narrowly 
watched  ;  with  little  children,  we  take  them  in  the  act.  We 
name  to  them  such  and  such  a  particular  determined  ob- 
ject: and,  with  an  instinct  of  imitation  common  to  them 
with  monkeys  and  parrots,  they  repeat  the  name  they  have 
just  heard.  Up  to  this  point  they  are  but  as  monkeys  and 
parrots  ;  but  here  there  appears  a  delicacy  of  impression 
which  is  special  to  man.  We  pronounce  the  word  papa 
before  a  child  in  its  cradle,  at  the  same  time  pointing  out 
his  father.  After  a  little,  he  in  his  turn  lisps  the  word,  and 
we  imagine  that  he  understands  it  in  the  same  sense  that 
we  do,  or  that  his  father's  presence  only  will  recall  the 
word.  Not  at  all.  When  another  person, — that  is,  one 
similar  in  appearance,  with  a  long  coat,  a  beard,  and  a  loud 

^  Lectures  on  Uanvin's  "  Philosophy  of  Language."  See  Eraser'' s 
Magazine,  1873,  pp.  36  and  49. 


GENERALIZATION.  207 

voice, — enters  the  room,  he  calls  him  also  papa.  The  name 
was  an  individual  one ;  he  has  made  it  general.  In  our 
case,  it  is  applicable  to  one  person  only  \  in  his,  to  a  class. 
In  other  words,  a  certain  tendency  corresponding  to  what 
there  is  in  common  to  all  persons  in  long  coats,  with  beards 
and  loud  voices,  is  aroused  in  him  in  consequence  of  the 
experiences  by  which  he  has  perceived  them.  This  tendency 
is  not  what  you  were  attempting  to  excite,  it  springs  up 
spontaneously.  In  it  we  have  the  faculty  of  language.  It 
is  wholly  founded  on  the  consecutive  tendencies  which  sur- 
vive the  experience  of  similar  individuals,  and  correspond 
precisely  to  what  they  have  in  common. 

We  see  these  tendencies  continually  at  work  in  children, 
and  leading  to  results  differing  from  ordinary  language  \  so 
that  we  are  obliged  to  correct  their  spontaneous  and  too 
hasty  attempts.  A  little  girl,  two  years  and  a  half  old,  had 
a  blessed  medal  hung  at  her  neck.  She  had  been  told, 
"  Cest  le  bon  Dieu,"  and  she  repeated,  "  C'est  le  bo  Du," 
One  day,  on  her  uncle's  knee,  she  took  his  eye-glass,  and 
said,  "  C'est  le  bo  Du  de  mon  oncle."  It  is  plain  that  she 
had  involuntarily  and  naturally  constructed  a  class  of  ob- 
jects for  which  we  have  no  name;  that  of  small  round 
objects,  with  a  handle,  through  which  a  hole  is  pierced  ;  and 
hung  round  the  neck  by  a  ribbon  ;  that  a  distinct  tendency, 
corresponding  to  these  four  general  characters,  and  which 
we  do  not  experience,  was  formed  and  acting  in  her.  A 
year  afterwards,  the  same  child,  who  was  being  asked  the 
names  of  different  parts  of  her  face,  said,  after  a  little 
hesitation,  on  touching  the  eye-lids,  "  These  are  the  eye- 
curtains."  A  little  boy,  a  year  old,  had  travelled  a  good 
deal  by  railway.  The  engine,  with  its  hissing  sound  and 
smoke,  and  the  great  noise  of  the  train,  struck  his  atten- 
tion ;  and  the  first  word  he  learnt  to  pronounce  was  fafer 
{chemin  de  fer).  Henceforward,  a  steamboat,  a  coffee-pot 
with  spirit-lamp — everything  that  hissed,  or  smoked,  or  made 
a  noise,  was  2i  fafer.  Another  instrument  to  which  children 
have  a  great  objection  (excuse  the  detail  and  the  word — I 
mean  an  enema)  had,  naturally  enough,  made  a  strong 
impression  on  him.     He  had  termed  it,  from  its  noise,  a 


208    THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

zizi.  Till  he  was  two-and-a-half  years  old,  all  long,  hollow, 
slender  objects,— a  scissor-sheath.,  a  cigar-tube,  a  trumpet, — 
were  for  him  zizi;  and  he  treated  them  all  with  distrust. 
These  two  reigning  ideas,  the  zizi  and  the  fafery  were  two 
cardinal  points  of  his  intelligence,  and  from  them  he  set  out 
to  comprehend  and  name  other  things."  ^ 

Let  us  call  by  their  real  name  these  tendencies  correspond- 
ing to  what  there  is  in  cojnmon  between  similar  individuals 
or  objects  :  they  are  embryo,  if  not  complete,  acts  of 
generalization.  There  is  a  simpler  and,  to  my  thinking,  a 
more  accurate  manner  of  interpreting  the  facts  quoted  above, 
as  well  as  the  analogous  facts  which  I  myself  have  been  able 
to  bring  forward.  Objects  which  are  similar  awaken  the 
same  ideas  in  the  intelligence  of  children.  At  first,  in  con- 
sequence of  their  feeble  capacity  for  analysis,  these  ideas 
of  similarity  are  particular;  but  by  dint  of  frequently 
seeing  similar  things,  simultaneously  or  successively,  they 
perceive  in  them  distinctive  characteristics,  or  differences ; 
they  cease  to  confound  one  with  the  other,  they  no  longer 
take  every  gentleman  with  a  beard  for  papa,  all  hissing  ob- 
jects for  fafer,  or  every  round  object  for  Bo-Dii;  yet  they 
nevertheless  retain  the  idea  of  resemblance  which  they  had 
grasped  at  first,  and  which  is  reawakened  at  every  fresh 
sight  of  the  objects,  since,  while  now  distinguishing  them 
clearly  from  one  another,  they  still  call  them  all  by  the 
same  name. 

Here  language  is  much  behind  thought :  if  the  common 
term  corresponds  to  the  general  conception,  the  particular 
or  individual  idea  has  not  yet  its  equivalent  in  the  child's 
vocabulary.  A  certain  colour,  a  certain  form,  have  sud- 
denly made  him  aware  of  the  presence  of  some  sort  of  food, 
and  he  pronounces  the  general  term  by  which  he  expresses 
the  idea  of  good  to  eat ;  but  at  the  second  glance,  he  has 
distinguished  cake  from  bread,  potatoes  from  butter ;  thus 
from  the  general  idea  there  have  been  detached  particular 
ideas,  which  he  does  not  know  how  to  express.     When  he 


*  Taine,  V Infelligence.     See  Eng.  Trans,  by  F.  D.  Haye,  p.  15. 


GENERALIZATION.  209 

has  set  terms  to  express  them  by,  the  first  general  terms  will 
merge  more  and  more  into  the  particular,  and  he  will  invent 
or  acquire  other  terms  by  which  to  express  the  former 
general  ideas,  which,  on  their  part,  will  go  on  enlarging. 

The  capacity  of  children  to  generalize  before  they  can 
speak,  seems  to  me  to  be  precisely  established  by  what 
M.  Taine  calls  this  sudden  tendency  to  generalize  terms 
which  to  us  are  individual.  Such  marvellous  virtue  in 
words  would  be  contrary  to  the  law  of  intellectual  evo- 
lution. If  general  ideas  did  not  exist,  in  however  rudi- 
mentary a  degree,  before  the  terms  which  are  their  cor- 
relatives, I  should  see  in  the  latter  an  effect  without  a 
cause,  the  less  producing  the  greater,  the  sign,  the  thing 
signified.  When  you  show  a  child  his  father,  and  say  to 
him,  papa^  you  supply  him  with  a  word,  which  associates 
itself  in  his  mind  with  an  already  existing  idea  of  a  form 
of  such  and  such  a  kind.  But  this  idea  was  not  particular 
in  the  child's  mind;  he  had  already  seen  this  form  be- 
fore, and  he  sees  it  nearly  every  day;  it  is  a  vague  idea 
of  resemblance,  which  is  not  abstract  to  him,  but  which 
is  re-awakened  at  the  sight  of  all  similar  objects.  The 
words  papa,  fafcr,  etc.,  signify  to  him  qualities  which  have 
struck  him,  not  in  one  object  only,  but  in  several.  If  the 
child  designates  by  the  same  name  all  similar  objects  after 
having  seen  a  certain  number  of  them,  and  without  taking 
one  for  the  other,  it  is  incontestably  shown  that  analogy 
touches  closely  on  generalization,  and  this  for  the 
reason  that  analogy  of  ideas  tends  towards  a  certain 
generality.  Words  progress  like  ideas  and  by  means  of 
ideas. 

Generalization  is,  in  fact,  only  more  or  less  extended 
similarity.  It  has  not  yet  become  (even  when  they  begin 
to  exercise  the  function  of  speech  easily)  that  superior 
faculty  of  applying  an  abstract  idea  of  quality  to  a  wh^le 
group  of  objects  compared  among  themselves.  The  steps 
which  lead  them  to  these  distinct  ideas  of  kind  and  species 
will  be  very  slow  and  gradual. 

A  child  of  three  years  old,  of  highly  developed  intelli- 
gence, could  not  at  all  understand  words  signifying  species 

p 


2IO   THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

or  class.  "What  does  that  mean,  this  animal  is  of  the 
same  kind  ?  "  he  persisted  in  asking  me.  I  could  only  get 
out  of  the  difficulty  by  answering  :  "  It  means,  that  the 
animal  is  almost  the  same."  He  understood  that  the  one 
was  like  the  other,  and  that  was  all.  There  is  nothing, 
moreover,  in  which  we  find  so  much  difference,  even  among 
adults,  as  in  general  ideas,  especially  the  way  in  which  they 
are  understood.  Take  ten  persons  at  hazard,  and  mention 
in  their  presence  the  terms  virtue,  humanity,  force,  law, 
nature,  quantity,  quality,  or  any  other  general  term;  ask 
each  person  the  sense  which  he  or  she  attaches  to  these 
words  of  every-day  usage,  and  you  will  be  astonished  at  the 
differences  there  will  be  in  the  answers  ;  and  the  reason  is, 
that  the  greater  the  power  of  thought,  the  more  experience 
and  analysis  intervene  in  our  intellectual  operations,  and 
the  more  general  terms  and  ideas  will  define  themselves, 
whether  by  contracting  or  expanding.  Bo-Du  will  gradually 
cease  to  be  the  name  of  all  round  hanging  objects, /^/^  of 
all  men  with  coats,  beards,  etc. ;  and  in  proportion  as 
objects  assume  their  individual  names,  or  the  names  con- 
sidered as  such,  they  will  take  their  place  with  the  corre- 
sponding ideas  in  other  general  categories.  The  analogies 
first  no  deed  become  less  striking,  differences  are  more  and 
more  clearly  perceived ;  classes  are  divided  into  species, 
species  into  varieties,  and  individualities  into  singularities. 
I'here  is,  as  it  were,  a  progressive  acuteness  in  the  intellec- 
tual vision,  which  at  first  grasps  great  masses  only,  after- 
wards the  more  important  details,  and  finally  the  small 
minutiae,  and  which  corresponds  to  our  generalizations 
successively  ascending  and  descending. 

V. 

REASONING. 

"The  process  of  judgment  has  then  for  its  special  charac- 
teristic, according  as  it  advances,  the  privilege  of  extending 
itself;  of  determining  the  reaction  of  the  surrounding 
cerebral  elements;  of  searching,  to  some  extent,  into  the 
archives  of  the  past;  of  associadng  former   notions  with 


REASONING.  211 

those  of  the  present;  of  creating  partial  local  judgments, 
established  a  priori  as  results  of  the  inner  experience  of  the 
individual;  and  of  permitting  us,  at  a  given  moment,  to 
juxtapose  and  agglomerate  partial  judgments — to  agglutinate 
them,  in  the  form  of  arguments,  into  a  complete  judgment, 
which  resumes  them  all  in  a  true  synthesis."  ^ 

If  then  reasoning  consists  in  the  fact  that  the  pre-^' 
sentation  of  certain  phenomena  (which  already  have  their 
equivalent  in  different  psychic  states  produced  by  past 
experiences)  excites  these  psychic  states  to  reproduce  them- 
selves, either  wholly  or  in  part ;  in  other  words,  if  reasoning 
is  nothing  else  than  a  series  of  consecutive  judgments  co- 
ordinated according  to  the  law  of  habitual  associations,  it  is 
evident  that  both  little  children  and  animals  are  able  to 
reason. 

A  child  of  seven  months  has  already  very  well  associated 
in  its  mind  the  idea  of  the  movements  of  mastication  with 
that  of  the  agreeable  sensations  resulting  therefrom.  When 
he  sees  his  nurse  lift  any  food  to  her  mouth,  and  sees  her 
lips  and  jaws  moving,  he  judges  that  she  is  eating ;  that 
what  she  is  eating  is  good  to  her  taste,  and  would  be  the 
same  to  his;  and  he  knows  by  experience  that  his  nurse 
would  probably  let  him  share  this  pleasure  if  he  asked  her 
in  an  irresistible  manner,  i.e.  if  he  cried,  or  pretended  to  be 
going  to  cry — and  he  acts  accordingly.  We  can  see  here 
the  origin  both  of  the  analogical  reasoning  by  which  he 
formed  this  chain  of  consecutive  judgments,  and  of  the 
deductive  reasoning  which  made  him  apply  these  experi- 
ences which  he  had  generalized  to  the  present  circumstances.  J 
Before  continuing  the  examination  of  the  faculty  of  reason- 
ing in  Uttle  children,  let  us  study  its  analogous  phenomena- 
in  animals. 

A  young  dog,  about  six  months  old,  had  been  given  to"^ 
me.     In  order  to  form  in  him  habits  of  cleanliness,  which 
his  former  master  had  neglected  to  teach  him,  I  used  to 
whip  him  every  time  that  he  made  a  mess  in  a  room.     Soon 

*  Luys,  Le  Cerveau  et  ses  Fonctions.      See  Eng.    Trans.  (Internat. 
Scient.  Series),  pp.  293,  294. 


212   THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF  CHH^DHOOD. 

the  idea  of  punishment  becoming  associated  with  that  of  a 
particular  need,  excited  in  him  the  idea  of  acting  in  such  a 
way  as  to  prevent  punishment.  He  took  to  waking  me  up 
every  night,  either  by  scratching  vigorously  at  the  door  of 
my  room,  or,  if  this  did  not  have  the  desired  effect,  by 
setting  up  a  piteous  howling.  All  the  judgments  which  he 
performed  in  this  instance  were  linked  together  by  such 
close  bonds  that  we  have  only  to  put  them  into  words  to 
see  in  them  the  elements  of  perfect  reasoning.  Let  us  try 
to  utter  his  thoughts.  "  My  master  whips  me  soundly  when 
I  make  my  bedroom  dirty  (first  inductive  reasoning).  But 
when,  having  opened  the  door,  I  go  out  for  a  Uttle  while 
into  the  court  below,  he  is  pleased  with  me,  and  instead  of 
punishing  me,  he  pats  me  and  praises  me  (second  induc- 
tion). Now,  when  I  make  a  loud  howHng,  he  wakes  up 
and  opens  the  door  for  me  (third  induction).  Come  then, 
I'll  bark  with  all  my  might,  wake  him  up,  and  I  shall  not 
be  beaten."     (Deductive  reasoning.) 

The  following  fact  is  not  less  conclusive.  I  borrow  it 
from  the  immense  store  of  observations  and  quotations  of 
M.  Houzeau,  who  was  a  witness  of  the  incident.  "It  is 
known  that  the  milk-sellers  of  Brussels  employ  dogs,  har- 
nessed to  little  carts,  to  go  every  morning  the  round  of 
their  customers.  These  dogs  draw  up  of  their  own  accord 
at  the  different  houses ;  but  in  this  there  is  nothing  more 
than  memory.  One  day  in  1854,  I  was  walking  along 
the  Rue  Saint-Gery,  and  I  happened  to  follow  one  of 
these  dogs  drawing  its  cart,  while  some  steps  behind  him 
followed  the  milk  woman.  A  carriage  with  two  horses  was 
also  going  along  the  street,  at  the  same  pace,  side  by  side 
with  the  milk-cart.  This  carriage  formed  a  constant  ob- 
stacle on  the  dog's  left  hand,  as  it  was  between  him  and 
the  Hne  of  houses,  one  of  which  he  had  to  stop  at.  The 
problem  in  his  mind  was,  whether  to  cross  in  front  of  the 
horses,  or  to  let  them  pass  on  and  cross  over  behind  them. 
The  dog  went  on  walking  at  his  usual  pace,  casting  alternate 
despairing  glances  at  his  mistress  and  at  the  door  of  his 
customer.  The  expression  of  the  animal's  face  said  unmis- 
takably :     '  What    shall  I  do   now  ? '      The  interrogation 


REASONING.  21 3 

was  so  plain  and  positive  that  the  milkwoman  not  only 
understood  and  answered  it,  but  she  solved  the  problem 
in  the  manner  that  the  dog's  look  seemed  to  suggest  She 
begged  the  coachman  to  stop  his  horses  for  a  minute,  and 
the  dog  then  instantly  crossed  over  in  front  of  them  and 
drew  up  at  the  right  door.  Any  one  who  has  witnessed  a 
similar  scene  cannot  deny  that  dogs  are  capable  of  re- 
flection." 1 

"At  the  time  of  the  great  mundation  of  the  Loire,  in 
1836,  the  water  spread  over  a  garden  where  two  nightin- 
gales had  built  a  nest  in  the  hedge.  The  floods  mounted 
higher  and  higher,  and  threatened  to  submerge  the  young 
family ;  for  the  little  ones,  but  newly-hatched,  were  not  yet 
capable  of  flying.  Under  these  circumstances,  we  might 
assert  that  the  old  birds  must  have  been  able  to  reason  in 
order  to  understand  the  increasing  danger.  But,  unques- 
tionably, there  was  something  more  than  automatic  action 
when  the  birds  carried  the  nest  bodily  off,  and  placed  it  at 
some  distance,  out  of  reach  of  the  waters.  This  is,  in  fact,, 
what  the  parent  birds  did ;  each  took  one  side  of  the  nest 
by  the  beak,  and  with  a  swift  and  balanced  flight  the  night- 
ingales accomplished  the  journey  and  saved  their  little  ones 
from  the  threatened  drowning." 

I  will  quote  another  example  of  a  difl"erent  kind,  also 
about  birds.  "  I  had  received  a  present  of  a  beautiful  male 
grossbeak,"  writes  Audubon  ;  "  but  the  bird  was  in  such  an 
exhausted  state  that  one  would  have  said  he  was  simply  an 
inanimate  mass  of  feathers.  However,  with  careful  feeding, 
he  soon  recovered,  and  became  so  tame  that  he  would  eat 
out  of  my  hand  without  showing  the  least  sign  of  fear.  To 
make  captivity  bearable  to  him,  I  allowed  him  to  fly  about 
my  bed-room,  and  on  getting  up  in  the  morning,  my  first 
care  always  was  to  give  him  some  seed.  It  happened, 
however,  that  for  three  consecutive  days  I  lay  in  bed  later 
than  usual,  and  then  the  bird  came  to  wake  me  by  flutter- 
ing on  to  my  shoulder  and  demanding  his  usual  meal.  The 
third  day  I  let  him  flutter  about  some  time  before  appearing 

*  Houzeau,  Facultes  Mentales  des  Avimaux^  vol.  ii.,  p.  195. 


214   THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

to  be  awake.  But  he  no  sooner  saw  that  he  had  attained 
his  end,  than  he  retired  to  the  window  and  waited  patiently 
till  I  had  got  up." 

Thus  we  perceive  in  animals  a  variety  of  intellectual 
operations  and  intelligent  actions  which  cannot  be  set  down 
to  instinct.  The  examples  above  quoted  do  not  belong  to 
the  class  of  habits  common  to  a  whole  species,  which  we 
might  consider  as  dependent  on  the  organic  constitution, 
but  they  are  individual  manifestations,  under  exceptional 
circumstances,  and  varying  with  external  changes.  It  is 
human  reasoning,  with  all  its  independence  of  automatism. 
We  must,  however,  be  careful,  whether  as  regards  human 
beings  or  animals,  not  to  attribute  too  much  to  spontaneity 
pure  and  simple.  Are  we  not  constantly  startled  by  the 
sudden  apparition  of  some  faculty  long  buried  in  the  depths 
of  hereditary  automatism  ?  and  may  not  certain  exceptional 
actions  performed  by  animals  proceed  from  the  same  mys- 
terious source?  Are  inundations,  for  instance,  such  rare 
events  in  the  life  of  the  species,  that  they  may  not  have 
determined  in  birds  up  to  a  certain  point  the  semi-instinctive 
faculty  of  transporting  their  nests  by  the  help  of  their  beaks? 
In  Hke  manner,  in  the  case  of  the  child  above  mentioned, 
who  watched  his  nurse  eating  with  envious  eyes,  there  must 
have  been  combined  with  the  conscious  operations  of  the 
intellect,  with  the  process  of  pure  reasoning,  certain  reflex 
judgments  and  movements  which  were  the  result  either  of 
individual  or  of  transmitted  habits.  Might  not  the  mere 
sight  of  the  movements  of  the  jaws  excite  in  a  child  un- 
conscious and  involuntary  moveuients,  such  as  opening  the 
mouth,  holding  out  the  arms,  leaning  forward,  and  even 
crying  ?  It  is  very  difficult  to  determine  how  much  belongs 
to  unconscious  and  how  much  to  conscious  cerebration,  in 
this  aggregate  of  apparently  rationally  co-ordinated  organic 
sentiments,  ideas,  and  impulses.  It  is  certain,  however, 
that  consciousness  enters  largely  into  the  matter.  In  fact, 
as  we  have  already  said,  all  instinctive  movements,  all 
reflex  actions,  come  in  course  of  time  to  be  consciously 
realized  by  their  agent,  provided  they  are  important  enough 
in  themselves,  or  that  by  quickly  recurring  reiteration  the> 


REASONING.  21$ 

are  brought  out,  so  to  say,  in  relief.  In  adults  we  see  the 
consciousness  suddenly  roused  by  great  crises  or  theatrical 
climaxes,  whereas  ordinary  events  leave  them  indifferent. 
In  like  manner,  if  children  are  encouraged  to  reproduce 
these  movements,  which  at  first  have  passed  unnoticed  by 
them,  or  to  perform  them  with  varying  or  increased  intensity 
or  complexity,  their  attention  is  sure  to  be  attracted  sooner 
or  later,  as  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  they  will  modify  these 
actions  under  the  counteracting  influence  of  particular  im- 
pressions or  sentiments. 

A  little  child  of  ten  months  wished  very  much  to  hold  in 
his  arms  a  kitten  which  his  elder  sister  was  playing  with  on 
her  lap  ;  he  held  out  his  arms  towards  the  animal,  looking 
alternately  at  it  and  at  his  sister,  and  uttering  cries  which 
sounded  like  hiccoughing.  His  sister  did  not  grant  his 
desire,  not  wishing  to  subject  her  pet  kitten  to  the  awkward 
hugging  of  the  baby.  The  latter  then  began  to  scream. 
His  sister  remained  calm  and  impassive.  The  baby  then  be- 
came more  urgent,  shook  his  whole  body  violently,  struggled, 
writhed,  sobbed,  and  howled.  His  sister  said  to  him  :  "Be 
quiet,  you  naughty  child,  you  shall  not  have  pussy,  you  will 
hurt  him  ;"  but  the  child's  passion  only  increased  in  fury,  and 
finally  reached  such  a  pitch  of  intensity  that  his  conscious- 
ness quite  disappeared  in  the  hurly-burly  of  moral  and 
physical  excitement,  and  he  ended  by  forgetting  the  cause 
of  his  rage  in  the  rage  itself.  He  went  on  screaming  and 
holding  out  his  arms  without  knowing  what  he  was  doing, 
for  the  kitten,  terrified  by  this  turbulent  scene,  had  escaped 
and  hidden  behind  a  bed.  To  calm  her  litde  brother,  the 
sister  called  the  kitten  back  and  took  it  to  him;  he  in- 
stantly became  quiet,  but  after  a  few  seconds  he  began  to 
cry  again ;  the  sister  then  kissed  and  petted  him,  and  tried 
to  make  him  stroke  the  kitten.  When  at  last  he  was  a  little 
tranquillized,  he  took  no  more  notice  of  the  kitten,  but 
asked  his  sister  for  a  bonbon.  Here  we  see  the  fluctuating 
and  capricious  procedure  of  a  child's  judgments  and  move- 
ments, which,  though  co-ordinated  by  the  law  of  habit,  are 
shifted  and  changed  in  a  thousand  unexpected  ways  at  the 
beck  of  intervening  impressions  and  associations  of  ideas 


2l6   THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

which  alternately  present  them  to  and  withdraw  them  from 
the  consciousness. 

If  automatism  passes  back  to  consciousness  in  certain 
determined  cases,  consciousness  is  equally  ready  to  relapse 
into  automatism.  A  child  of  two  years  was  accustomed 
to  see  his  mother's  lodger  (Mme.  Jillet)  re-enter  the  house 
nearly  every  day  on  her  return  from  market.  Whenever  he 
saw  his  mother  come  back  with  a  basket  on  her  arm  he 
used  to  call  out,  "Where  m^  Gile?  Me  want  see  Gile. 
Call  m^  Gile."  Are  not  all  the  acts  of  judgment  expressed 
by  these  baby  phrases  linked  together  in  such  a  way  as  to 
constitute  a  chain  of  concrete  but  effectual  reasonings? 
Well  then,  the  child  has  already  acquired  the  habit  of 
repeating  these  phrases  several  times  a  day,  and  no  matter 
at  what  hour,  and  quite  mechanically,  like  a  parrot,  every 
time  he  sees  his  mother  take  up  a  basket.  What  was 
rational  has  become  automatic,  by  dint  of  constant 
repetition.  I  observed  other  examples  of  the  same  nature  in 
this  child.  When  the  lady  in  question  comes  to  pay  her 
morning  visit  after  marketing,  the  child  runs  up  to  her, 
hangs  on  to  her  gown,  and  says  :  "  Maman  dear  Gile,"  then 
he  pulls  open  a  corner  of  the' basket,  forages  about  with 
his  hands  among  the  provisions,  and  pulling  out  no  matter 
what,  says,  "  Want  this,  I  do ;  I  say,  I  want  this."  All 
these  natural  operations  of  judgment  happen  in  so  constant 
an  automatic  order,  that  one  would  suppose  that  the  child 
had  no  consciousness  of  them. 

But  here  are  two  examples  of  a  contrary  nature,  fur- 
nished by  the  same  child,  from  which  we  shall  see  the 
intervention  of  consciousness  in  a  collection  of  judg- 
ments and  movements  performed  chiefly  in  a  reflex  manner. 
His  father  is  a  workman  who  often  goes  out  fishing,  and 
the  child  is  accustomed  to  eating  fried  fish.  The  other 
day,  the  father,  who  had  returned  home  after  the  hour  for 
the  family  supper,  was  eating  some  fish  by  himself.  **  Me 
want  fish,  papa,  me  want  fish."  The  father  turned  a  deaf 
ear  for  a  few  moments.  "  Me  want  fish,"  again  said  the 
Httle  one,  pulling  his  father's  sleeve  and  trying  to  attract 
his  attention.     The  father  went  on  eating  without  speaking 


REASONING.  2\J 

a  word  (up  to  this  point  all  the  child's  words,  as  well  as 
its  actions  and  gestures,  had  expressed  ideas  automatically- 
associated  and  co-ordinated)  ;  but  finding  his  efforts  fruit- 
less, he  suddenly  got  under  the  table,  and  pulling  his 
father's  leg  began  again  :  "  Me  want  fish,  not  pussy  have 
fish,  me  want  fish."  He  had  suddenly  reflected  that  the 
cat  generally  went  under  the  table ;  and  by  a  sudden  inspira- 
tion of  his  consciousness,  which  made  him  imagine  and 
execute  movements  quite  new  to  him,  he  assumed  the 
character  of  a  cat. 

The  mother  of  this  child  has  accustomed  him  to  call 
Madame  Jillet,  towards  twelve  o'clock,  and  to  ask  her  to 
throw  down  the  newspaper,  in  order  to  save  her  the  trouble 
of  coming  downstairs.  The  child  discharges  this  duty  very 
solemnly,  and  will  not  let  any  one  else  do  it  for  him,  "  Me 
GiM,  give  paper  ! "  He  repeats  this  formula  with  very  little 
variation  until  the  paper  is  thrown  out  of  the  window.  One 
day  his  brother  wanted  to  call  out  for  the  paper  instead  of 
him.  The  child  became  crimson  with  rage;  his  rights 
were  being  invaded.  He  set  off  screaming  with  all  his 
might :  "  Md  Gile,  give  paper ! "  and  then,  turning  to  his 
brother  ;  "  You  not  to  call  out,  musn't  call  out,  me  cry  out, 
me  Gile  ! "  The  paper  fell  at  this  moment,  and  the  elder 
boy  picked  it  up;  the  younger  one  instantly  snatched  it 
from  him,  saying  :  *'Give  paper,  me  take  mamma."  Two  or 
three  innovations  had  here  crept  into  his  accustomed  routine ; 
but  he  returned  to  this  immediately,  shaking  the  paper 
which  had  fallen,  and  saying,  "  Not  dirty ; "  this  had  become 
an  almost  unconscious  habit  with  him. 

It  is  in  this  faculty  of  assimilating  past  experiences 
with  new  ones,  of  continually  extending  the  chain  of 
inductions  and  deductions,  that  children  and  animals  show 
endless  power  of  invention  and  resource  of  imagination  — a 
power  which  adults,  more  accustomed  to  act  on  ready- 
made  arguments,  acquired  or  learnt,  than  to  construct  new 
ones,  might  envy  them.  A  propos  of  this  example,  we  may 
observe  that  Locke  and  Mill  have  with  reason  maintained 
that  there  is  a  mode  of  reasoning  founded  on  the  particular. 

M.  L.  Ferri,  in  his  interesting  study  on  Les  Trois  Pre- 


2l8    THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

mih'es  Annees  d'une  Enfant}  has  introduced  some  observa- 
tions which  confirm  this  opinion. 

Young  children  are  incessantly  giving  proofs  of  their 
force  of  invention,  and  of  the  elasticity,  of  their  reasoning 
power.  All  their  intellectual,  moral,  and  physical  progress, 
their  games,  their  caresses,  their  little  tricks,  all  bear 
the  mark  of  the  practical  and  ingenious  nature  of  their 
reasoning  powers.  We  will  quote  a  few  more  instances 
selected  out  of  thousands,  and  of  the  kind  which  every 
one  may  have  observed,  without  however  noticing  or  appre- 
ciating them  systematically,  and  with  a  view  to  the  right 
direction  to  be  given  to  infant  faculties.  The  word  direction 
does  not  rightly  express  my  meaning.  Everything  bursts 
forth  so  spontaneously  in  the  evolution  of  young  human 
beings,  the  experiences  they  are  continually  accumulating 
respond  with  such  marvellous  activity  and  diversity  to  the 
excitations  and  necessities  of  accidental  circumstances, 
that  the  great  art  of  education,  even  at  the  most  tender 
age,  seems  to  me  to  consist  rather  in  attentive  and  watchful 
neutrality  than  in  partial  and  domineering  interference. 
Woe  to  the  child  cast  in  the  mould  of  conventional  routine 
and  maxims,  however  wise  and  specious  a  form  they  may 
assume  !  "  Let  be,"  "  Let  pass,"  ''  Let  live,"  and  do  not 
force  or  repress,  except  when  absolutely  necessary,  or  you 
run  the  risk  of  hindering  the  diffusion  of  the  sap  destined 
to  produce,  successively  and  simultaneously,  precious  flowers 
and  exquisite  fruit. 

Here  are  some  more  examples  from  the  category  of 
children  who  can  already  speak  and  walk,  and  thus 
reveal  in  a  more  evident  manner  the  workings  of  the 
unseen  phenomena  which  are  going  on  within  them.  The 
child  I  am  about  to  speak  of  is  two  years  and  one  month 
old.  When  his  father,  whose  night  duties  oblige  him  to 
sleep  rather  late  in  the  morning,  seems  to  him  to  have 
slept  too  long,  he  tries  to  wake  him  up,  if  left  alone  with 
him  for  a  moment,  either  by  pulling  off  the  counterpane  or 
making  a  noise  with  a  chair,  or  by  getting  up  on  the  chair 

*  In  the  Filpsophia  ddle  Scuole  llaliane^  Oct.  1 879. 


REASONING.  219 

and  shaking  his  father's  head.  The  other  day,  mounted  on 
the  chair,  he  took  his  father  by  the  neck,  and  then  pinched 
and  pulled  his  ear.  The  father  pretended  to  be  asleep,  in 
order  to  see  what  .would  happen.  At  last  the  child  lifted 
up  one  of  his  father's  eyelids  and  cried  out,  "  Daddy,  isn't 
it  light  ?  "  This  was  a  device  that  the  father  would  have  to 
guard  against  in  future.  Another  time  the  father  had  just 
come  in,  and  was  waiting  for  supper ;  the  child  was  watching 
his  mother's  preparations  ;  she  had  just  filled  a  plate  with 
soup  and  left  the  room  for  a  moment.  The  child  profited  by 
her  absence  to  take  up  the  plate  in  both  hands  ;  and,  not- 
withstanding its  weight,  he  carried  it  to  his  father,  saying  to 
him :  "  Monsieur  papa,  mangez  soupe."  This  action  was 
altogether  new,  and  caused  a  burst  of  laughter  from  both 
parents.  The  Monsieur  papa  was  the  most  comical  ]3art  of 
the  entertainment.  Sometimes,  when  his  father  pretends  to 
be  angry,  the  boy  soon  guesses,  from  his  expression,  and  the 
curve  of  his  lip,  and  other  familiar  signs,  that  the  anger  is 
only  feigned,  and  he  calls  out,  laughing,  "  Not  angry,  papa 
play,  not  angry."  This  child  has  taken  to  a  trick  of  slily 
stealing  something  from  his  neighbour's  plate  at  meals. 
When  he  has  transferred  the  bit  of  stolen  meat  or  pudding 
to  his  own  plate,  he  pats  and  presses  it  up  against  the  rest, 
so  that  it  should  not  be  seen.  This  little  trick  has  already 
procured  him  several  scoldings,  which  have  not  yet  quite 
cured  him  of  it.  He  knows  that  his  brother,  who  is  past 
five,  and  goes  to  school,  does  not  like  him  to  touch  his 
playthings,  because  he  disarranges  and  spoils  them.  But, 
no  sooner  is  his  brother  gone,  than  he  goes  off  to  the 
corner  where  the  box  of  toys  is  hidden,  or  manages  by 
coaxing  and  tears  to  get  *them  from  his  indulgent  mother. 
But  he  is  on  the  qui  vive  all  the  time,  and  often  runs  to  the 
top  of  the  staircase  to  see  who  is  coming  up  ;  and  the 
instant  he  recognises  his  brother's  step  he  begins  with  both 
hands  to  bundle  all  the  toys  pell-mell  into  the  box,  and  to 
put  them  back  in  their  place.  Although  it  is  indisputable 
that  in  many  cases  adult  animals  reason  more  promptly  and 
justly  than  do  children  from  one  to  four  years,  or  even 
older,  this  is  assuredly  an  example  of  contrivance  superior 


220   THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

to  that  which  is  ordinarily  shown  in  the  most  inteUigent 
animals. 

As  children  grow  in  strength  and  experience,  their  judg- 
ment gains  in  accuracy,  their  reason  becomes  stronger, 
more  precise,  and  more  subtle, — more  abstract,  so  to  say, — 
and  the  verbal  expression  of  their  trains  of  reasoning, 
which  relate  generally  to  their  desires  and  fears,  acquires 
fluency  and  logic. 

When  I  was  a  child  of  five  years  I  had  abused  my  right 
of  strongest,  and  taken  away  from  a  little  girl  cousin,  two 
years  younger,  a  magnificent  pear  which  our  grandmother 
had  given  her.  The  tears  and  screams  and  despair  of  the 
poor  little  victim  may  be  imagined.  She  related  what  had 
happened  very  eloquently  and  circumstantially  to  my 
grandmother,  and  the  latter  tried  to  appease  her  by  giving 
her  a  fine  bunch  of  grapes.  When  I  came  out  of  the  hiding- 
place  where  I  had  been  enjoying  my  stolen  fruit,  the 
little  girl  had  not  yet  come  to  the  end  of  her  grapes  or  of 
her  grief.  My  grandmother  scolded  me  very  severely,  and 
then  addressing  my  cousin  :  "  Never  mind,  my  child,"  she 
said,  "  I  will  fetch  you  a  very  nice  pear,  and  your  cousin 
shall  not  have  one."  This  promise,  and  my  disconcerted 
air,  restored  my  cousin's  cheerfulness,  and  she  ran  off 
merrily  to  her  play.  An  hour  passed  by,  and  I  had  not 
left  the  house ;  probably  I  was  waiting  to  see  whether  our 
grandmother  would  have  the  courage  to  fulfil  her  threat, 
and  to  give  my  cousin  a  pear  in  my  presence  without  giving 
me  one.  The  little  girl,  on  her  part,  had  not  forgotten  the 
promise  either ;  she  kept  coming  back  every  ten  minutes, 
fidgeting  round  the  old  lady,  and  saying  pretty  coaxing 
things,  asking  if  she  could  do 'anything  for  her,  talking 
to  her  about  flowers,  vegetables,  etc.,  but  the  word  pear 
never  passed  her  lips.  She  knew  by  experience  that  our 
grandmother  did  not  like  importunity,  especially  in  regard 
to  things  to  eat,  and  she  avoided  displeasing  her  by 
appearing  too  eager  for  the  promised  fruit.  At  last,  how- 
ever, at  the  end  of  half  an  hour,  she  screwed  up  all  her 
courage,  and  nerving  herself  for  all  risks,  came  jumping 
into   the  room  from  the  court-yard,  and  laying  a  coaxing 


REASONING.  221 

hand  on  her  grandmother's  shoulder,  said  :  "  It  will  be  very 
nice,  won't  it  ? "  My  grandmother  understood  very  well 
what  this  astute  remark  meant,  but  purposely  made  her 
repeat  it ;  and  the  child,  thus  encouraged,  went  even  further : 
"  It  will  be  nice,  grandmamma,  the  pear  ! "  My  grand- 
mother was  charmed  with  this  proceeding,  and  calling  to 
my  grandfather,  who  was  in  an  adjoining  room,  asked  him  if 
he  had  time  to  go  into  the  garden.  "  Will  you  go  and 
look  for  a  fine  pear  which  I  have  promised  this  little  girl  ?  " 
My  grandfather  went  into  the  garden,  and  my  cousin 
accompanied  him,  holding  his  hand ;  I  too  made  one  of 
the  party,  but  keeping  at  a  respectful  distance  behind  my 
grandfather.  My  cousin  had  a  beautiful  pear  given  her ; 
and  she  was  so  much  engrossed  with  the  pleasure  of  eating 
it,  that  she  forgot  to  say  that  I  was  not  to  have  one.  So  we 
all  three  enjoyed  our  pears  together,  and  then  we  had  a 
good  game  among  the  trees  in  the  garden  with  our  grand- 
father— two  little  children  and  one  big  one  ! 

Children  are  thus  capable  of  reasoning  from  their  very 
cradles;  if  it  were  not  so,  they  would  never  acquire  the 
power  :  according  to  the  saying  of  Laromiguiere  :  "  Reduced 
to  pure  sensations,  which  they  could  neither  disentangle  nor 
compare  nor  combine  nor  analyse,  they  would  be  destitute 
of  all  ideas,  and  would  never  take  rank  among  intelli- 
gences."^ But  the  natural  logic  of  young  children  is  very 
limited  in  its  grasp  and  very  uncertain  in  its  methods.  If 
in  the  sphere  of  analogical  relations  it  goes  straight  to  the 
end,  as  if  by  an  imaginative  glance  ;  if  in  the  rather  more 
complex  relations  of  particular  similitudes,  which  lead 
towards  induction,  it  follows  the  course,  sometimes  tolerably 
regular,  of  psychic  associations ;  and  if  it  applies  somewhat 
resolutely  some  of  these  analogical  and  inductive  concep- 
tions to  new  cases,  it  is  the  primitive,  summary,  and  irreflec- 
tive  method  which  suits  children  best.  This  method  is 
confounded  with  the  most  elementary  acts  of  discrimination 
and  classification ;  often  it  is  only  a  similitude  applied  to  a 
passing  fact,  the  most  simple  adaptation  of  movements  to 

^  Discours  sur  la  Langue  du  Raisonnenient^  p.  185. 


222    THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

representations.  Many  of  the  above  examples  are  proofs 
of  this.  But  it  is  a  satisfaction  to  me  to  see  my  own  inter- 
pretations confirmed  by  observations  analogous  to  mine. 
Darwin,  although  he  does  not  fix  the  positive  beginning  of 
association  of  ideas  in  children  before  the  age  of  five 
months,  nevertheless  notices  a  sign  of  practical  reasoning 
in  his  little  son  at  the  age  of  a  hundred  days,  when  he 
slipped  his  hand  along  the  finger  held  out  to  him  in  order 
to  introduce  it  into  his  mouth. ^  A  child  who  cannot  yet 
speak,  but  is  beginning  to  walk,  stumbles  in  passing  from  the 
bare  floor  to  the  carpet.  A  moment  comes  when  it  occurs 
to  him  to  raise  his  foot  to  a  sufficient  height  to  step  over  the 
border  of  the  carpet  without  stumbling.  Here  is  a  middle 
term  inserted  between  the  end  conceived  and  the  point  of 
departure.^  A  little  girl  nineteen  months  old  wanted  to 
have  my  hat,  which  was  placed  on  a  table  too  high  for 
her  to  reach  :  impatience,  screams,  tears.  I  get  up  and 
give  it  to  her.  Her  first  impulse  is  to  put  it  on  her  head  ; 
then,  after  a  few  minutes,  during  which  she  seemed  to  be 
thinking,  she  went  to  fetch  her  own  hat,  which  was  on  a 
chair  within  her  reach,  and  presented  it  to  me  with  a  most 
serious  expression.  Was  it  a  mode  of  thanking  me,  or  an 
invitation  to  me  to  take  her  out?  It  matters  little  ;  but  it 
was  evidently  analogical  or  even  inductive  reasoning.^ 

These  are  the  modes  of  reasoning  in  which  children  excel, 
even  after  they  have  begun  to  talk.  They  seem  less  sure  of 
themselves  in  those  which  they  attempt  at  our  dictation,  on 
our  system,  and  by  means  of  the  analogies  and  inductions 
which  are  imposed  on  them  by  our  language.  They  judge, 
often  very  wrongly,  from  simple  similitudes  and  forced 
analogies.  "  If  they  dislike  a  person  very  much,  every  one 
else  who  at  all  resembles  that  person  will  be  repugnant  to 
them  ;  they  would  readily  lay  down  this  axiom  :  All  persons 

^  Biographical  Sketch  of  a  Little  Child.     Scientific   Review^  July, 

1877. 

^  See  the  Revtie  Philosophique,  April,  1880,  on  the  above-cited  paper, 
by  L.  Ferri. 

^  Paul  Rousselet,  PJdagogie  i  V  Usage  de  V Enseignement  Primaire^ 
p.  246. 


REASONING.  223 

of  such-and-such  an  aspect  are  bad.  A  premature  and  un- 
scientific induction,  yet  nevertheless,  at  bottom,  of  the  same 
nature  as  those  oi  savants.''''  ^  It  is  not  indeed  very  certain 
whether  most  of  the  trains  of  reasoning  that  children  prefer 
and  succeed  in  best  from  two  to  three  years  old,  generally 
surpass  the  average  reasoning  of  adult  animals.  I  had  a  cat 
which,  from  the  time  she  was  a  year  old,  was  in  the  habit  of 
taking  her  dinner  with  me.  The  instant  dinner  was  ready 
she  used  to  begin  frisking  about,  from  me  to  the  table  and 
from  the  table  back  to  me,  and  try  by  persuasive  looks  to 
make  me  come  to  it.  Do  we  find  any  superior  element  in 
the  reasoning  attributed  by  M.  Egger  to  his  son  ?  ^  "  From 
the  age  of  eighteen  months,  as  soon  as  meals  were  ready 
he  used  to  summon  all  the  absent  members  of  the  family 
and  drag  them  by  their  clothes  to  join  the  meal.  ...  At 
twenty-eight  months  I  observed  the  scope  of  his  reasoning 
powers  extend.  He  now  guessed  that  any  person  who  took 
up  his  hat  was  preparing  to  go  out,  that  in  going  out  he 
would  pass  through  the  court-yard,  and  that  he  could  see 
him  pass  there;  the  instant  any  one  takes  up  his  hat,  he 
goes  to  the  window  to  see  him  go."  There  is  nothing  in 
this,  whatever  M.  Egger  may  think,  which  indicates  any 
superiority  of  infant  over  animal  intelligence. 

The  faculty  of  reasoning  is  always  very  limited  in  its 
logical  scope  during  the  whole  three  years  of  which  we  are 
treating.  If  language  brings  a  child  new  elements  of  in- 
duction, new  facilities,  and  especially,  under  the  example 
of  his  elders,  the  to  him  new  faculty  of  argumentation,  it 
most  often  only  serves  to  bring  out  in  relief  his  intellectual 
feebleness ;  and  a  very  useful  result  this  is,  both  for  us  and 
for  the  child — for  us,  who  are  thus  enabled  better  to  con- 
trol the  child's  progress,  and  for  the  child,  who  has  thus  the 
opportunity  to  take  stock  of  himself,  and  to  realize  the 
limits  and  the  scope  of  his  budding  intelligence.     No  one 


*  Henri  Marion,  Lemons  de  Psychologic  appliquie  d,  V Education,  p.  340. 
2  Observations  et  Reflexions  sur  le  Dheloppement  de  I  Intelligence  etdu. 
Langage  chez  les  En/ants. 


224   THE   FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

has  better  demonstrated  than  M.  Egger  these  characteristic 
facts  of  intellectual  weakness  in  children  who  so  often 
astonish  us  by  the  precocity  of  their  reason  and  the  sagacity 
of  their  judgment.  The  instances  which  we  borrow  from 
him  have  moreover  a  double  interest,  psychological  and 
moral  observation  being  closely  bound  up  with  the  lexico- 
logical considerations  which  they  embody. 

"  The  younger  sister  of  Emile  said  to  me  :  *  I  shall  carry 
Emile  when  he  gets  little.'  She  had  noticed  that,  of  two 
people,  the  biggest  only  can  carry  the  smallest  -,  she  has 
also  been  told  that  she  will  become  big  .  .  .  the  con- 
ditional and  the  future  are  confused  together  in  her  mind." 
This  observation  is  of  real  value  from  all  points  of  view, 
and  I  can  say  as  much  for  the  two  following :  "  The  reversing 
of  relations  is  very  habitual  with  children  at  this  period  of 
life.  At  four  years,  and  even  at  five  years  of  age,  a  child 
will  take  correlative  ideas  one  for  the  other,  like  that  of 
lending  and  borrowing.  'Will  you  borrow  your  seal  to 
me  ? '  He  said  to  me  one  day :  '  I  am  very  generous 
to-day,'  meaning  to  say  :  *  You  have  been  very  generous  to 
me.' "  We  must  however  add  that  these  infantine  confu- 
sions take  place  rather  in  words  than  in  things.  Let  us 
study  the  natural  Hmits  and  the  most  common  deficiencies 
of  infant  reasoning  in  circumstances  almost  independent 
of  the  admixture  of  speech. 


VI. 

THE   ERRORS    AND    ILLUSIONS    OF    CHILDREN. 

Children  are  subject  to  the  same  kinds  of  error  and 
illusion  as  adults ;  the  only  difference  between  them  is,  that 
particular  kinds  of  error  are  more  natural  and  unavoidable 
in  the  former,  owing  to  the  imperfect  development  of  their 
faculties,  which  nevertheless  from  the  beginning  of  life  tend 
to  exercise  themselves  according  to  the  specific  laws  of 
human  thought.  Apart  from  this  difference,  we  find  in 
children  all  the  most  common  errors,  false  inductions 
applied  to  the  impressions  of  the  various  senses,  the  para- 


ERRORS  AND  ILLUSIONS.  22$ 

logisms  occasioned  by  precipitation  and  prejudice,  and  above 
all,  what  we  still  call,  after  the  logicians  of  Port  Royal, 
sophisms  of  ainour-propre^  of  interest,  and  of  passion.  To 
point  out  some  few  of  these  different  errors,  often  analogous 
in  children  and  adults,  will  not  be  a  work  of  idle  curiosity — 
it  will  throw  a  flood  of  light  on  the  operations  of  the  infant 
mind  and  afford  us  knowledge  as  useful  for  us  who  live  in 
the  life  of  our  children,  as  for  the  children  whom  we  have 
to  prepare  for  life. 

Plato  has  indicated  very  poetically  and  accurately  the 
principal  source  of  our  errors,  viz.  ignorance.  "  Let  us 
suppose  our  soul  to  be  a  sort  of  dove-cot  for  birds  of  every 
species,  some  are  gregarious,  others  that  consort  in  small 
numbers,  some  that  fly  by  themselves  through  all  the  others, 
this  way  or  that  as  it  may  happen.  By  these  birds  we 
must  conceive  that  different  kinds  of  knowledge  are  meant. 
While  we  are  children  the  dovecot  is  empty  j  but  every 
time  that  we  acquire  a  piece  of  knowledge  we  let  it  loose 
in  the  dovecot.  When  we  want  to  '  recapture '  one  of 
these  pieces  of  knowledge,  it  may  often  happen  that  we 
get  hold  of  one  by  mistake  instead  of  the  other ;  as  for 
instance,  if  we  were  seeking  the  total  of  seven  and  five, 
we  might  get  hold  of  eleven  instead  of  twelve — our  ring- 
dove, as  it  were,  instead  of  our  rock  pigeon.  But  in 
this  case  it  would  be  knowledge  that  would  make  us  ignor- 
ant."^ However  subtle  these  last  remarks  may  be,  we 
may  accept  their  imagery  and  profound  meaning.  It  is,  in 
fact,  on  the  strength  of  a  little  knowledge  that  we  judge 
rightly  or  wrongly ;  and  the  reasonings,  whether  conscious 
or  intuitive,  which  lead  us  to  error  and  to  false  judgments 
apply  to  the  simplest  phenomena  of  the  mind  and  even  to 
our  perceptions.  We  shall  find  numerous  examples  of  the 
truth  of  this  amongst  children. 

Let  us  first  examine  the  errors  which  the  exercise  of  our 
senses  gives  rise  to.  The  illusions  of  sight  have  to  do  with 
the  colour,  the  localization  in  space,  the  form,  the  dimensions, 
the  distance,  the  nature,  the  number  of  all  objects  which  are 

1  Theaetetus. 


226   THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF   CHILDHOOD. 

illumined  by  light.  The  sensation  of  light  produces  the 
notion  or  judgment  of  colour;  the  reality  appears  to  us 
under  colours  with  which  we  ourselves  invest  it  by  virtue  of 
anterior  judgments.  What  a  time  ^it  must  take  a  young 
child  to  accustom  itself  to  recognise  the  colours  belonging 
to  the  different  surrounding  objects,  susceptible  as  they  are 
of  a  thousand  variations  and  transformations,  according  to 
their  reciprocal  actions  on  each  other,  the  action  on  them 
of  different  surroundings,  and  according  to  their  distance 
and  position.  A  child  of  six  months  will  gaze  fixedly  at,  and 
then  stretch  out  his  hands  entreatingly  towards,  the  flattened 
sphere  of  a  door-handle  which  he  mistakes  for  the  suspended 
ball  with  which  his  nurse  has  amused  him  in  his  cradle. 
He  will  take  a  flat  disk  with  gradations  of  light  and  shade 
for  a  globe  of  uniform  colour ;  as,  later  on,  he  will  mistake  a 
sphere  for  a  square.  At  this  age,  however,  his  most  frequent 
error  is  to  take  all  the  surfaces  he  sees  for  bulks.  He  wants 
to  hold  in  his  hands  everything  of  which  the  brightness 
attracts  him ;  and  the  reason  of  this  is,  that,  owing  to  his 
limited  knowledge  of  perspective,  he  does  not  judge  of  the 
distance  of  far-off  objects  in  comparison  with  the  relative 
distances  of  the  objects  which  surround  him :  his  scale  of 
height  and  length  is  entirely  circumscribed  by  the  environs 
of  his  own  person  and  the  few  places  well  known  to  him, 
like  hie  room  or  some  parts  of  his  room. 

As  early  as  ten  months,  or  a  year,  it  seems  to  us  as  if 
children  were  enchanted  by  the  solemn  appearance  of  the 
sun  or  moon,  when  setting  or  rising ;  this  however  is  an 
illusion  on  our  part.  A  child  who  is  not  in  the  habit  of 
contemplating  these  luminaries  at  other  times,  does  not 
invest  them  at  rising  and  setting  with  the  voluminous 
appearance  which  we  see  in  them  on  these  occasions.  I 
have  even  remarked  that  a  child's  attention  is  scarcely 
attracted  by  the  brightness  (much  more  relative  than  real) 
of  the  stars  :  their  scintillation,  to  eyes  which  only  see  them 
as  near  objects,  is  very  trifling.  Children  are  constantly 
making  strange  mistakes  respecting  the  height,  the  distance, 
and  the  form  of  numbers  of  things.  Mountains,  forests, 
horizons,  which  we  see  and  reckon  to  be  eight  or  ten  miles 


ERRORS  AND  ILLUSIONS.  22/ 

from  us,  to  a  child  even  of  fifteen  months  old,  will  seem  no 
larger  or  more  distant  than  such-and-such  a  neighbouring 
tree  or  house.  Far-off  objects  seem  to  him  as  smaller 
objects  near  by,  while  near  objects  he  almost  invariably 
thinks  to  be  much  larger  than  their  real  size. 

A  little  later  on,  when  a  child  is  four  or  five  years  old,  for 
instance,  his  sense  of  perspective,  being  now  a  little  more 
developed,  will  lead  him  into  qtiite  opposite  errors.  I 
remember  that  when  I  was  five  or  six  years  old,  I  accom- 
panied my  mother  and  an  uncle  to  Bagn^res-de-Bigorre. 
We  had  been  for  a  walk  on  Mont  Bedat,  whose  base  is 
planted  with  trees,  shading  winding  paths.  My  uncle, 
having  left  us  for  a  moment,  disappeared  amongst  the  trees, 
and  we  did  not  see  him  till  he  reappeared  on  a  footpath  a 
little  higher  up.  I  thought  he  was  an  immense  way  off,  but 
I  have  since  verified  that  he  could  not  have  been  more  than 
a  hundred  yards  distant.  It  is  in  consequence  of  pyschical 
(and  not  optical)  errors  that  young  children  judge  very  falsely 
of  real  forms,  of  movement,  and  of  the  distance  of  objects, 
when  the  object  is  some  little  way  off.  If  they  are  moving 
along  in  a  carriage  or  a  boat,  they  go  on  for  a  long  time 
believing  that  the  trees  and  houses  they  pass  are  moving ; 
when  they  see  a  long  avenue,  they  think  that  the  trees  join 
and  touch  each  other.  If  two  buildings  at  different  dis- 
tances off  appear  to  them  of  the  same  height,  they  think 
they  are  at  the  same  distance,  and  of  the  same  height.  As 
for  rather  distant  objects,  they  are  not  capable  of  estimating 
their  real  size  by  comparing  their  apparent  size  with  the 
distance  at  which  they  are.  The  utmost  they  can  do,  even 
at  two  years  old,  is  to  estimate  the  distance,  dimension,  and 
movement  of  near  objects,  within  the  reach  of  eye  and 
hand.  But  it  has  been  noticed  that  the  more  intelligent 
children  are,  and  the  more  they  are  accustomed  to  games 
and  exercises  which  call  forth  strength,  skill,  and  quickness 
of  sight,  the  greater  is  their  certainty  of  visual  appreciation. 

The  most  frequent  illusions  of  sight, — normal  illusions  i.e.^ 
not  pathological  ones, — are  those  which  relate  to  the  relief 
of  objects,  to  the  confusion  of  what  is  visible  with  what  can 


228    THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

be  held  in  the  hand,  and  to  the  number  of  objects  within 
the  field  of  vision.  Children  refuse  for  a  long  time  to 
believe  in  the  solidity  of  objects.  They  feel  them  all  round 
and  all  over  to  find  some  cavity ;  and  they  try  to  put  all 
sorts  of  things  one  inside  the  other.  A  child  of  fifteen 
months  who  was  very  fond  of  hoisting  himself  up  to  the 
second  landing  of  the  staircase  at  home,  on  another  stair- 
ease  stopped  at  the  first  landing  because  the  landing  was 
so  large  that  he  thought  the  staircase  ended  there.  There 
is  no  doubt  that  children,  even  after  a  certain  number  of 
experiences,  will  be  very  puzzle-pated  in  making  distinc- 
tions, which  we  determine  at  first  sight,  between  such  things 
as  the  ledge  of  a  chimney-piece,  a  roof,  a  portion  of  a  wall, 
the  facing  of  a  bridge,  and  the  plane  surfaces  which  are  con- 
tiguous to  them.  We  can  also  well  understand  that  a  child, 
even  of  three  years  old,  and  who  has  some  idea  of  concrete 
numerical  quantities,  will  yet  often  make  mistakes  in  esti- 
mating the  number  of  objects  presented  to  him.  Is  it  not 
the  same  with  adults  ?  We  know  that  to  each  one  of  us 
when  we  look  up  at  the  sky  on  a  fine  starry  night  the 
number  of  stars  we  seem  to  see  is  immensely  exaggerated. 
Here  we  have  an  illusion  entirely  mental.  An  illusion  of  this 
kind  takes  place  in  a  child's  mind  when  it  wishes  to  count 
a  number  of  objects  close  to  each  other,  even  when  but 
little  removed  from  himself  At  the  age  of  three  years 
he  will  perhaps  be  able  to  count,  up  to  four  or  five,  the 
trees  which  are  quite  near  him ;  beyond  that  limit  the 
number  becomes  many  trees,  and  the  number  increases 
with  the  distance  of  the  objects.  That  which  is  true  of 
numeric  magnitude  is  also  true  of  magnitude  of  extent.  A 
pool  of  water  seems  like  an  ocean  to  an  infant  of  two  or 
three,  and  the  sea  is  inuch,  very  much  water ;  but  this  vague 
idea  of  the  indefinite  is  much  more  limited  in  children  than 
in  adults. 

The  sense  of  sight,  like  that  of  touch,  must  be  exercised 
in  recognising  the  intrinsic  properties  of  objects ;  in  other 
words,  the  intuitive  appearance  only  becomes  an  object  of 
real  cognition  when  it  is  relerred  to  a  genus  which  deter- 


ERRORS   AND   ILLUSIONS.  229 

mines  the  object.  When  a  child  sees  his  nurse,  at  a  few 
yards  distance  from  his  cradle,  take  up  her  bonnet  and 
cloak,  fill  his  bottle  with  milk,  stroke  the  cat  or  dog,  etc., 
these  are  forms  of  thought  rather  than  visual  perceptions. 
At  the  sight  of  these  objects,  or,  let  us  rather  say,  on  the 
evidence  of  his  sight  which  brings  to  him  some  of  the  sensa- 
tions which  cause  him  habitually  to  infer  these  objects,  the 
child  affirms  to  himself^ beheves  that  he  sees  them.  By 
virtue  of  judgments  and  reasonings  as  rapid  as  they  are 
unconscious,  the  child  immediately  refers  these  tangible 
qualities  to  a  known  genus ;  this  is  why  the  number  of  his 
errors,  relatively  to  this  specific  appreciation  of  objects,  is 
in  inverse  ratio  to  his  accurate  experiences  and  his  well- 
drawn  inductions. 

Finally,  we  must  not  forget  those  hallucinations,  in.  some 
sort  legitimate,  which  are  produced  in  a  child's  mind  by 
undecided  combinations  of  light  and  shade,  a  sudden 
passage  from  light  to  darkness,  the  juxtaposition  of  certain 
colours.  These  illusions  are  more  optical  than  mental  ; 
but  from  the  tendency  which  all  animals  have  to  clothe  in 
an  objective  form  any  sensations  that  are  rather  vivid, 
children, — and  sometimes,  too,  adults, — are  led  to  create 
chimerical  spectres,  real  phantoms,  out  of  these  optical 
spectres.  Nothing  is  more  hurtful  than  to  leave  children 
alone  in  badly-lighted  rooms,  or  to  let  them  pass  suddenly 
and  alone  from  light  into  darkness.  Some  children,  from  a 
false  conception  of  the  relations  between  light  and  darkness 
— especially  if  the  light  flickers  at  all — have  been  tlie 
victims  of  terrors  resulting  from  illusions  which  have  taken 
bodily  shape.  We  should  try  to  accustom  them  gradually 
to  the  changing  effects  of  light  and  shadow,  and  teach  them 
to  produce  for  themselves  strange  effects  which  they  will  no 
longer  be  frightened  at  when  they  have  become  accustomed 
to  produce  them  themselves  and  to  laugh  at  them.  Thus  a 
child  of  two  years  used  to  beg  his  mother  to  leave  the  candle 
till  he  was  asleep,  so  that  he  might  make  dogs,  elephants, 
and  jaguars  with  the  shadow  of  his  fingers  on  the  wall. 

The  sensations  of  hearing  give  rise  to  special  errors,  but 


230  THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

not  such  numerous  or  important  ones  as  those  caused  by 
visual  sensations.  The  great  difficulty  for  children,  is  not 
so  much  to  localize  sound  in  space,  as  to  refer  it  to  its  right 
cause ;  but  these  two  cases  seem  oft^n  confounded  in  one. 
As  it  is  not  essentially  useful  for  a  child  to  make  this  localiz- 
ation in  the  absence  of  impressions  of  sight,  he  does  not 
acquire  the  power  till  rather  late,  and  after  he  has  had  a 
great  many  combined  experiences  of  hearing,  sight,  and 
touch,  and  that  his  faculty  of  comparison  has  developed  to 
some  extent.  Thus  we  see  a  child  of  a  year  old  very  easily 
mistaken  as  to  the  distance  of  a  sound  otherwise  familiar. 
Nurses  and  other  people  who  are  about  children  will  often 
amuse  themselves  by  raising  or  lowering  their  voice,  re- 
maining all  the  while  hidden,  to  make  the  children  think 
they  are  either  quite  near  or  far  off.  As  to  the  errors 
relating  to  the  fusion  in  one  whole  of  various  sensations, 
either  synchronic  or  successive,  whatever  importance  they 
may  have  as  regards  the  musical  education  of  little  children, 
they  belong  to  the  chapter  of  infant  aesthetics,  and  we 
abstain  from  alluding  to  them  here.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that 
the  spiritual  ear,  or  the  faculty  of  judging  sonorous  sounds, 
plays  many  tricks,  even  if  it  renders  good  service,  to  the 
material  ear. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  how  much  harm  is  done  to  children 
by  people  who  do  not  scruple  to  give  vent  violently  before 
them  to  their  tempers  and  passions.  Children  generally 
imagine  that  this  or  that  angry  tone  of  voice  means  dis- 
pleasure with  theniy  and  that  they  are  going  to  be  scolded 
and  punished.  It  is  the  same  with  dogs  and  cats  whose 
masters  lose  their  temper  about  every  trifle;  when  they 
begin  to  storm  or  to  swear,  the  animals  hide  themselves 
in  terror.  I  knew  a  little  girl  of  five  months  who  used  to 
be  constantly  whippq^  and  scolded  to  cure  her  of  a  dirty 
habit ;  and  often  the  mere  sight  of  an  angry  face,  an  angry 
gesture  or  voice,  would  be  enough,  from  some  mysterious 
association  of  ideas,  to  make  her  commit  the  fault  in  spite 
of  herself.  Another  little  thing  of  fifteen  months,  whose 
father  used  to  scold  her  unreasonably  often,  whenever  she 


ERRORS  AND   ILLUSIONS.  23 1 

heard  a  heavy  step  on  the  stairs  thought  it  was  her  father, 
and  ran  trembling  to  her  mother. 

Smell  and  taste  are  liable  to  numberless  causes  of  error. 
In  the  first  place  we  know  that  the  nervous  excitability  of 
the  sense  of  smell  very  quickly  wears  off,  so  that  we  only 
enjoy  pleasant  odours  or  suffer  from  bad  ones  at  the  mo- 
ment and  during  short  periods.  For  each  scent  in  its  turn  to 
be  fully  appreciated,  they  must  succeed  each  other  in  a 
certain  order.  We  know  also  that  smell  and  taste  are 
closely  connected,  and  that  they  deceive  conjointly.  We 
can  tell  the  taste  of  cinnamon  from  its  smell,  and  if  we 
pinch  our  nose  while  eating  it,  we  find  no  taste  in  it  but 
that  of  fir-wood.  Many  other  substances  lose  their  flavours 
in  the  same  way.  Thus,  nurses  act  scientifically  without 
knowing  it,  when  they  pinch  the  babies'  noses  to  make  them 
swallow  disagreeable  medicine.  Taste  deceives  us  in  a 
similar  manner.  When  we  eat  or  drink  substances  of 
different  flavours  in  quick  succession,  without  giving  the 
nerves  of  taste  time  to  rest  from  their  first  sensations,  how- 
ever different  the  flavours  may  be,  we  are  no  longer  able  to 
distinguish  them.  By  drinking  alternately,  with  our  eyes 
bandaged,  buttermilk  and  Bordeaux  wine,  it  becomes  im- 
possible after  several  repetitions  of  the  experiment,  to 
discover  any  difference  between  the  two  liquids.  These 
are  illusions  which  children's  doctors  do  not  fail  to  avail 
themselves  of 

Finally,  as  to  errors  of  touch.  They  are  generally  easily 
corrected  by  the  attentive  use  of  the  tactilo-muscular 
organs.  This  is  at  any  rate  the  case  with  regard  to  im- 
pressions of  surfaces,  their  smoothness  or  roughness,  hollow- 
ness  or  relief,  etc.  The  exercise  of  our  organs  pure  and 
simple  corrects  more  or  less  quickly  and  completely  the 
errors  of  the  child  in  this  respect.  Needless  to  say  that 
the  intelligence  of  the  child  and  the  intelligence  of  the 
educator  contribute  much  to  hastening  on  progress  of  this 
sort.  It  is,  moreover,  often  difficult,  even  for  adults,  to 
rectify  the  vague  or  determinate  indications  of  the  sense, 
or  the  senses,  of  which  we  are  treating. 


232   THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

The  appreciation  of  different  weights  is  not  an  easy 
thing.  If  we  take  up  two  things  together,  we  cannot  always 
say  which  of  the  two  is  the  heavier ;  or,  if  the  weights  are 
almost  equal,  we  cannot  determine  whether  they  are  exactly 
equal  or  not.  This  explains  to  us  the  confusion  made  by 
a  three-months-old  child,  between  a  full  and  an  empty 
bottle.  It  also  explains  to  us  why  a  rather  more  experi- 
enced child  either  attacks  all  objects  alike  and  tries  to  lift 
them,  or  else  hesitates  to  touch  even  the  lightest  objects, 
fancying  they  must  be  heavy. 

The  sense  of  touch  is  also  subject  to  frequent  errors  with 
regard  to  appreciating  the  different  degrees  of  heat  in 
different  bodies.  But  here  children  are  scarcely  more  at 
fault  than  adults.  Doctors  tell  us  that  the  heat  which 
exists  in  bodies  in  a  latent  state  does  not  affect  us.  The 
temperature  of  our  bodies  remaining  the  same,  as  well  as 
that  of  external  objects,  different  objects  affect  us  thermally 
in  an  unequal  manner.  In  a  room  where  all  the  objects 
are  at  a  temperature  of  120  degrees,  we  feel  a  lower  degree 
of  warmth  if  we  put  our  naked  foot  on  the  carpet  than  if 
we  touch  the  marble  chimney-piece  or  any  metallic  object. 
At  the  same  degree  of  temperature  the  walls  and  the  wood- 
work appear  much  hotter  than  the  clothes  we  have  on.  If 
we  suppose  the  same  objects  to  be  all  of  them  at  a  much 
lower  temperature,  the  relative  degrees  will  be  reversed, 
and  the  objects  will  appear  colder  and  colder,  in  the  same 
order  in  which  before  they  appeared  to  be  warmer  and 
warmer.  These  singular  phenomena  are  explained  in  the 
tirst  instance  by  the  greater  or  less  facility  which  different 
bodies  have  of  communicating  heat,  and  of  producing  on 
us  the  different  impressions  of  heat  and  cold.  It  is  for  the 
same  reason  that  when  one  takes  a  cold  bath,  the  water 
seems  colder  that  the  air,  and  the  air  colder  than  our 
clothes,  although  all  these  objects  are  of  the  same  tem- 
perature. In  the  same  way,  again,  a  child  who  comes  out 
of  a  warm  bath,  and  is  wrapped  up  in  towels  of  the  same 
temperature,  feels  all  the  same  a  chill;  it  is  because  air 
and  stuffs  transmit  lieat  more  slowly  than  water. 


ERRORS  OWING  TO   MORAL  CAUSES.  233 

VII. 
ERRORS   OWING  TO   MORAL   CAUSES. 

Hitherto  we  have  only  considered  illusions  and  errors 
arising  from  physiological  or  purely  intellectual  causes. 
But  for  children,  as  well  as  for  adults,  there  are  also  moral 
causes  of  error.  So  many  sentiments  and  inclinations,  so 
many  sources  of  error.  It  would  take  too  long  to  pass 
them  all  in  review,  so  we  will  content  ourselves  with  a  few 
prominent  examples. 

One  frequent  cause  of  error  in  children,  is  their  feverish 
need  of  movement  and  action,  their  passionate  instinct  of 
exercise  and  of  play.  They  often  observe  very  well  (but 
only  up  to  a  certain  point)  things  which  interest  them, 
because  they  pay  attention  to  them.  But  it  is  not  a  search 
for  truth  which  interests  them,  it  is  the  need  of  acting,  and 
of  acting  quickly  to  arrive  at  such-and-such  an  end.  Thus 
they  form  their  decisions,  so  to  speak,  by  inspiration.  They 
do  not  trouble  themselves  about  the  real  bearing,  or  the 
limits  or  the  distant  results  of  things ;  they  have  seen,  or 
half-seen  what  they  wanted  to  see — the  means  of  producing 
a  certain  result,  and  that  is  enough  for  them  ;  they  believe 
and  they  act.  Too  much  precipitation  is  as  detrimental  to 
action  as  to  thought,  as  they  often  find  out  at  their  own 
cost,  but  only  to  fall  back  again  soon  into  the  same  errors. 
Experience  comes  slowly.  Here  is  an  example  of  this 
kind  of  errors,  which  at  the  same  time  marks  "  the  intimate 
connection  of  thought  and  of  language,  and  the  mutual 
help  they  give  each."  With  children,  as  with  animals, 
actions  which  appear  to  us  sensible,  make  us  suppose  them 
to  be  more  intellectually  developed  than  they  are.  When 
a  child,  for  instance,  perceives  that  the  pin  which  fastens 
the  wheel  of  his  little  carriage  is  loose,  he  soon  comes  to 
foresee  that  the  slightest  shake  will  cause  it  to  fall  out,  and 
that  then  the  wheel  will  fall  also.  From  that  moment  the 
idea  of  making  the  pin  secure  naturally  presents  itself  to  him ; 
but  we  are  not  sure  that  there  is  anything  in  his  mind  but 
a  simple  succession  of  images.     By  his  action  he  realizes 


234  THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

the  image  of  a  linch-pin  and  a  wheel  securely  fastened, 
because  he  does  not  wish  for  the  continuance  of  the  other 
image  in  which  these  same  objects  in  their  unsteady  con- 
dition presage  a  catastrophe.  In  order  for  him  to  set  to 
work  to  seek  out  the  causes,  which  would  be  a  real  exercise 
of  reason,  it  would  be  necessary  for  his  intellect  to  make 
another  step  in  advance. 

"  Without  presuming  to  decide  that  this  progressive  step 
depends  entirely  on  language,  I  maintain  at  any  rate  that 
words  will  be  the  means  of  establishing  it.  Ask  a  child  to 
give  you  his  reason  for  what  he  did  to  mend  his  cart.  The 
words  which  he  will  use  in  reply,  will  lead  him  to  think  that 
he  acted  thus  in  consequence  of  certain  laws  which  may  be 
appHed  to  many  things  besides  his  cart.  The  particular 
image  will  become  effaced  in  the  presence  of  more  general 
ideas.  He  will  tell  us  that,  the  pin  being  loose,  the  wheel 
would  certainly  fall ;  and  this  word  loose^  the  designation  of 
a  quality  separable  from  the  object  itself,  applicable  to  a 
thousand  other  objects,  and  suggesting  a  necessary  event, 
has  already  become  a  germ  of  general  ideas.  Notions  of  the 
effects  of  weight,  of  friction,  in  short,  of  all  the  immutable 
laws  of  nature,  will  in  time  result  from  this  imperfect  ex- 
planation which  he  has  given  us." 

Vanity,  self-consciousness,  and  obstinacy  also  lead  chil- 
dren into  a  number  of  errors.  Marie  is  on  the  swing,  where 
she  makes  more  noise  than  all  the  three  children  who  are 
looking  at  her  and  awaiting  their  turn.  In  five  minutes,  she 
manages  to  get  in  more  than  twenty  phrases,  all  beginning 
or  ending  with  the  word  /  or  7ne.  "  Look  at  me,  how  fast  I 
swing  myself !  No  one  can  go  as  high  as  I  can !  Look,  I 
am  swinging  myself  all  alone  ! "  She  fancies  all  this  is  true, 
whereas  none  of  it  is :  it  is  illusion  of  judgment  produced 
by  an  exaggerated  feeling  of  personal  skill.  "  My  pleasures, 
my  troubles,  my  pains,  and  my  happiness,"  are  all  exag- 
gerated by  the  child,  through  inexperience,  through  want  of 
foresight,  and  through  a  strong  sense  of  personality. 

It  is  needless  to  enlarge  on  the  perpetual  illusions  and 
errors  which  self-interest,  especially  when  connected  with 
the  palate,  give  rise  to  in  children.     They  are  patent  to 


ERRORS  OWING  TO  MORAL  CAUSES.     235 

every  one.  But  it  is  curious  to  observe  the  facility  with 
which  their  tendencies  or  their  self-seeking  habits  lead 
them  unconsciously,  from  the  best  intentions,  into  error,  and 
even  into  the  practice  of  sophistry.  Two  children,  one 
seven  and  the  other  four  years  old,  were  often  very  quarrel- 
some together,  either  from  jealousy  or  thoughtlessness.  The 
younger,  formerly  rather  ruled  over  by  his  brother,  is  now 
no  longer  afraid  of  him,  and  often  provokes  him.  It  is 
only  by  fits  and  starts  that  they  are  kind  to  each  other, 
and  then  they  say,  "Shall  we  be  friends?"  The  treaty 
concluded,  it  lasts  as  long  as  one  could  expect.  The  other 
day  we  were  witness  of  a  very  droll  scene.  Some  one  had 
promised  at  dessert  to  divide  a  piece  of  sugar  between 
them.  The  younger  one  said  to  his  mother,  "  Mamma,  I 
want  to  be  kind  to  Charles  j  you  must  give  him  the  biggest 
piece."  The  mother,  however,  cut  the  sugar  as  equally  as 
possible,  and  there  was  hardly  any  difference  to  be  seen 
between  the  two  pieces.  There  was  a  slight  difference 
however,  which  both  children  noticed.  Charles  said,  "They 
are  the  same  size,"  preparing  at  the  same  time  to  take  the 
larger  bit.  But  Fernand  was  quicker,  and  presented  him 
with  the  smaller  piece,  saying  to  him :  "  Here  you  are, 
Charles,  here's  the  largest  piece."  And  Charles,  not  daring 
to  contradict  him,  but  very  much  vexed,  accepted  it  without 
a  word. 


CHAPTER   XL 

ON    EXPRESSION    AND    LANGUAGE. 
I. 

Human  language,  or  speech,  is  only  a  superior  kind  of  the 
faculty  of  expression  which  all,  or  nearly  all,  animals  possess. 
Birds  by  their  attitudes  and  their  song,  dogs  by  their  barking 
and  howling,  ants  by  the  contact  of  their  moving  antennae, 
certain  kinds  of  fish  by  sounds,  probably  related  to  their  in- 
stinct of  propagation,  in  short,  the  greater  number  of  animate 
beings  are  able  to  communicate  to  each  other,  species  with 
species,  and  individual  with  individual,  by  ocular,  auricular, 
or  tactile  signs,  their  sorrows  and  their  joys,  their  desires, 
their  love,  and  their  anger.  For  man  and  for  other  animals, 
language  has  the  same  origin — a  complex  origin,  and  one 
in  which  direct  observation  of  little  children  at  the  period 
of  lingual  evolution  may  give  us  much  valuable  light. 

The  principle  of  language,  or  of  expression  in  general,  is 
the  correspondence  of  certain  organic  movements,  strongly 
marked  outwardly,  with  the  inward  sensations  and  senti- 
ments experienced.  The  internal  modifications  of  the 
machine  are  revealed  by  peripheric  modifications,  as  con- 
stant as  they  are  varied  in  each  species.  Such  are  most  of 
the  movements,  the  sobs,  the  laughter,  the  babbling  of 
children,  mechanically  executed  from  the  first  months. 
They  necessarily  become  conscious  of  them  after  they 
have  performed  them  a  certain  number  of  times  3  but  they 
attach  no  significance  to  them,  and  produce  them  at  first 
without  the  slightest  intention.  These  are  neither  more  nor 
less  than  reflex  actions  of  the  organism.  But,  with  intelli- 
gent beings,  these  unconscious  utterances  soon  develop  into 

836 


ON   EXPRESSION   AND   LANGUAGE.  237 

signs.  This  result  is  the  work  of  the  association  of  ideas. 
The  animal  or  the  infant  learns  to  associate  the  idea  of  these 
organic  phenomena,— guttural  or  other  sounds,  movements  of 
the  limbs,  screams,  sobs,  laughter,  and  tears, — with  the  idea 
of  the  accompanying  sentiments  or  sensations.  By  a  kind  of 
natural  selection  these  movements  are  changed  from  spon- 
taneous to  conscious,  from  mechanical  to  voluntary.  The 
child,  who  produced  them  at  first  from  sheer  necessity  of 
his  nature,  now  repeats  and  perfects  them  for  pleasure  or 
use.  An  infant  of  three  months,  who  makes  intentional 
gestures  with  his  little  arms  in  order  to  ask  for  or  to  repulse 
some  object,  knowing  by  experience  that  these  gestures  will 
be  understood,  already  exercises  the  innate,  organic,  and 
hereditary  faculty  of  expression.  When  he  cries  in  order 
to  get  his  feeding-bottle,  to  be  taken  up,  to  be  held  in  the 
arms,  to  refuse  a  disagreeable  dose,  the  action,  which  was  at 
first  automatic,  has  now  become  conscious  and  intentional : 
it  is  even  so  much  a  matter  of  habit  that  it  might  be  called 
reflex.  When  tears  of  this  sort  are  too  promptly  attended 
to,  and  the  desires  expressed  by  gestures,  screams,  or  other 
signs  too  readily  granted,  children  are  apt  to  repeat  the 
process  from  caprice  and  habit,  without  desire  or  intention ; 
they  do  not  always  shed  tears  without  a  motive,  but  it 
happens  very  often. 

The  best  proof  of  how  much  natural  affinities  and  he- 
reditary influences  have  to  do  with  the  first  progress  in  speech, 
is,  that  little  children  appear,  from  the  very  first,  to  under- 
stand the  simple  language  of  their  mother,  and  can  distin- 
guish their  different  tones  of  joy  and  anger,  of  coaxing  or 
threatening.  Tiedemann  says  of  his  son  at  the  age  of  one 
month  :  "  When  any  one  spoke  to  him  he  tried  to  produce 
sounds,  very  simple  ones  it  is  true,  and  quite  inarticulate, 
but  nevertheless  varied."  A  little  girl,  three  weeks  old,  who 
is  by  my  side  as  I  write  these  lines,  stops  screaming  and 
crying  instantly  when  her  mother  speaks  coaxingly  to  her. 
I  have  also  often  noticed  that  quite  young  kittens  will  begin 
to  whine  if  left  for  a  moment  alone  ;  but  they  stop  directly 
they  hear  their  mother  coming  back.  But  to  return  to  our 
children.    A  little  girl  who  began  to  smile  at  fifteen  days  old, 


238   THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

used  also  at  this  early  age  to  express  by  particular  sounds 
that  she  wanted  to  be  fed.  At  three  months  she  would 
utter  little  cries  of  joy  and  admiration  when  she  saw  flowers 
or  birds,  or  any  brilliant  or  moving  object.  If  her  mother 
called  her  attention  to  things  of  this  sort,  saying  :  "  Look  at 
this  pretty  flower  1 "  "  See  pretty  Coco,"  or  "  this  pretty 
thing,"  she  would  instantly  begin  this  joyous  babbling,  ac- 
companied by  little  graceful  actions,  expressive  of  desire, 
admiration,  and  delight.  She  attached  a  meaning  to  a  num- 
ber of  words  repeated  to  her  by  her  mother,  turning  her 
head  towards  the  dog,  when  told  to  "  Look  at  Medor  ! "  or 
toward  the  bird-cage  at  the  words,  "  See  Coco."  No  doubt 
also  she  attached  some  vague  sense  to  the  varied  sounds 
by  which  she  expressed  joy  or  anger,  or  violent  desire.  But 
she  did  not  appear  to  produce  these  with  the  same  decided 
intention  that  her  movements  or  her  screams,  sobs,  and 
tears  indicated  at  certain  moments. 

A  child  of  seven  months,  who  had  never  before  seen  me, 
smiled  at  me  as  if  I  were  an  old  acquaintance,  on  hearing 
me  pronounce  his  name.  Here  at  any  rate  we  have  an 
instance  of  a  vocal  sign  joined  to  the  memory  of  caresses 
lavished  on  him  by  his  nurse  or  mother  while  calling  him 
by  his  name  ;  or  else  perhaps  the  sign  is  associated  with  the 
idea,  already  confusedly  conceived,  of  his  own  personality. 
When  I  called  him  by  his  name,  or  gave  him  something  he 
wanted,  or  if  he  procured  for  himself  some  much-desired 
object,  he  would  instantly  turn  to  his  mother  smiHng ;  or  if 
he  was  frightened,  astonished,  or  uneasy,  he  also  turned  to 
her  in  a  significant  manner.  It  was  as  if  he  wished  his 
mother  to  know  when  he  was  happy  or  in  trouble.  At  nine 
months  he  uttered  little  cries  of  pleasure,  or  cries  to  attract 
attention,  some  of  which  were  evidently  imitated,  at  the 
sight  of  a  dog,  a  cat,  or  a  bird,  and  even  once  of  a  fly  which 
had  crawled  on  the  edge  of  his  plate,  and  which  his  eyes 
followed  for  a  long  tmie  after  it  had  flown  away.  At  eleven 
months  he  understood  the  meaning  of  a  great  many  words, 
and  even  of  a  few  little  phrases ;  and  he  used  to  gesticulate 
with  much  expression.  One  of  his  intentional  gestures, 
which  consisted  in  clasping  his  two  hands  together,  interested 


ON   EXPRESSION   AND   LANGUAGE.  239 

me  very  much.  He  would  stand  upright  in  front  of  an  arm- 
chair against  which  he  supported  himself  sHghtly ;  his  mother, 
three  steps  behind  him,  would  show  him  a  piece  of  cake, 
or  something  that  he  had  wished  for.  If  she  did  not  bring 
it  to  him  he  moved  his  whole  body  round,  making  eloquent 
signs  that  he  wanted  some  one  to  help  him  to  walk  to  her. 
His  mother  would  wait  a  little  longer,  and  then  he  would 
join  his  hands  several  times  successively,  crying  at  the  same 
time.  He  had  been  for  some  time  in  the  habit  of  making 
this  gesture  when  he  very  much  wanted  anything  which  he 
either  .noticed  of  himself,  or  which  was  shown  to  him.  His 
parents  liked  to  designate  it  as  the  gesture  of  supplication, 
which  it  would  be  very  easy  to  explain  in  his  case  as  the 
result  of  heredity,  and  which  it  is  impossible  to  refer  to  the 
influences  of  imitation^  the  action  never  having  been  per- 
formed before  him.  It  has  seemed  to  me  that  the  action 
of  mechanically  bringing  the  hands  together  to  seize  or  to 
retain  an  object,  may  have  remained  even  when  the  object 
was  refused ;  in  fact,  in  the  violence  of  desire,  imagination 
tends  to  confound  the  idea  and  the  sight  and  the  possession 
of  a  thing. 

I'his  gesture,  at  first  unconscious,  may  easily  become 
intentional  on  the  part  of  young  children,  and  develop  into 
the  gesture  of  prayer,  provided  that  their  desires  are 
satisfied  when  they  make  it.  The  child  I  have  been  speak- 
ing of  had  nearly  arrived  at  this  point.  I  think  this 
remarkable  gesture  should  be  connected  with  analogous 
movements  that  are  so  frequently  seen  in  young  animals. 
A  kitten,  six  weeks  old,  seeing  its  mother  and  two  bigger 
sisters  standing  on  their  hind  paws  and  catching  with  their 
front  paws  the  food  that  was  being  thrown  to  them,  tried  to 
imitate  them;  but  she  tumbled  awkwardly  on  her  side  without 
accompHshing  any  result.  Then  she  took  to  climbing  up 
our  trousers  or  petticoats  to  get  at  our  hands.  A  few  days 
later,  having  become  a  little  firmer  on  her  hind  quarters, 
she  made  another  attempt  at  catching  her  food,  and  half 
raised  herself,  bringing  her  front  paws  together  as  she  saw 
the  other  cats  do.  Often,  however,  the  movement  of 
prehension  was  made  before  the  bit  of  food  had  been  thrown 


240  THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

or  after  it  had  fallen,  or  been  caught  by  more  skilful  hands, 
the  kitten's  paws  still  remained  clasped  together,  as  if  the 
wished-for  prize  had  been  obtained.  As  in  the  case  of  the 
child  above  mentioned,  the  ideas  of  the  desired  object  and 
of  its  possession  get  confused :  the  gestures  are  finished  in 
the  air. 

Let  us  take  another  child  of  eleven  months.  He  has  a 
little  cardboard  horse  on  wheels,  which  he  treats  as  a  sort 
of  scapegoat.  He  knocks  it  about,  strangles  it,  pinches  it 
with  all  his  might,  etc.,  etc.  These  interesting  exercises 
are  habitually  accompanied  by  the  exclamations,  Htie,  hue, 
which  he  learned  about  a  month  ago.  When  any  one 
says  to  him,  "  Beat  the  horse,"  he  takes  his  little  wooden 
spade,  and  belabours  the  back  of  the  insensible  quadruped. 
A  lady  friend  of  his  often  sets  the  child  astride  on  her  knees, 
saying ;  brouDi !  brouni !  words  which  the  little  rider  imitates 
as  well  as  he  can,  while  performing  his  imaginary  gallop. 
He  also  says  distinctly,  papa,  papa,  without  attaching  any 
sense  to  the  words,  as  he  has  not  seen  his  father,  even  in  a 
photograph.  He  has  been  taught  to  make  with  his  hand 
the  gesture  which  corresponds  to  the  words  au  revoir.  He 
cannot  yet  pronounce  these  words,  but  he  makes  the  gesture 
mechanically,  through  simple  association  of  ideas,  and  only 
when  he  is  told  to  do  so,  to  any  one  who  is  going  away. 
He  also  performs  a  little  comedy  of  his  own.  If  one  says 
to  him.  Prise,  he  sniffs  like  a  person  about  to  sneeze,  with 
an  irresistibly  droll  curl  of  the  lips  and  the  tip  of  his  nose. 
This  is  the  first  act,  which  is  followed  by  a  second  more 
compHcated  and  not  less  curious.  An  empty  snuff-box  is 
given  to  him  into  which  he  inserts  his  fingers,  carries  them 
to  his  nose,  and  recommences  the  performance  of  which  we 
have  just  spoken.  The  more  one  laughs  at  him,  the  more 
ceremony  he  makes  about  conveying  his  fingers  from  the 
snuff-box  to  his  nose,  the  more  he  sniffs  and  turns  up  the 
tip  of  his  nose.  He  understands  the  meaning  of  such 
phrases  as  :  "  Give  this  ; "  "  Take  that ; "  "  Drink  this  ; " 
**  Eat  that,"  etc.  He  has  thus  acquired  not  only  knowledge 
of  signs  representing  individual  objects,  but,  as  we  can  see, 
he  also  understands  signs  representing  fairly  complex  ideas 


ON   EXPRESSION   AND   LANGUAGE.  24I 

and  actions,  and  a  few  of  which  he  has  succeeded  in 
imitating.  He  understands  the  value  of  a  word,  and  every 
day  he  makes  fresh  progress  in  the  art  of  speaking. 


II. 

Thus  then  we  see  imitative  and  oral  language  developing 
side  by  side ;  the  former,  however,  thrown  back  for  a  time 
because  of  the  rapid  progress  of  the  latter,  which  is  the 
necessary,  universal,  and,  so  to  say,  official  instrument  of 
human  expression.  This  is  also  the  more  interesting 
language  for  the  psychologist  to  study,  and  it  will  be  con- 
venient here  to  give  it  special  attention.  Let  us  go  over 
briefly  the  first  lines  of  this  branch  of  study,  and,  checking 
our  own  observations  by  those  of  eminent  observers,  let  us 
attempt  in  broad  outlines  a  sketch  of  infant  glossology. 

First  of  all,  it  is  necessary  to  decide  which  are  the  different 
parts  played  by  instinct,  organization,  heredity,  and  educa- 
tion— i.e.  imitation — in  the  acquisition  of  language.  Man, 
like  other  animals,  utters  sounds  and  produces  spontaneous 
movements  which  soon  become  conscious  and  voluntary 
signs  of  what  he  feels  and  thinks  :  from  the  moment  of  his 
birth  he  begins  to  speak  the  language  of  nature,  and 
possibly  the  language  of  his  forefathers.  "The  intimate 
connection  between  the  brain,  as  it  is  now  developed  in  us, 
and  the  faculty  of  speech,  is  well  shown  by  those  curious 
cases  of  brain  disease  in  which  speech  is  specially  affected, 
as  when  the  power  to  remember  substantives  is  lost,  whilst 
other  words  can  be  correctly  used.  There  is  no  more 
improbability  in  the  effects  of  the  continued  use  of  the 
vocal  and  mental  organs  being  inherited,  than  in  the  case 
of  hand-writing,  which  depends  partly  on  the  structure  of 
the  hand,  and  partly  on  the  disposition  of  the  mind ;  and 
hand-writing  is  certainly  inherited."  ^ 

The  part  played  by  heredity  in  language,  side  by  side 
with  that  of  imitation,  and  which  appears  to  us  so  consider- 

^  Darwin,  Descent  of  Man,  vol.  i.,  p.  58. 


242    THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

able,  is  far  from  being  established  by  experimental  proofs, 
either  in  the  case  of  men  or  of  animals. 

"  The  experiment  has  never  been  fairly  tried,  of  turning 
out  a  pair  of  birds  into  an  enclosure  covered  with  netting, 
and  watching  the  result  of  their  untaught  attempts  at  nest- 
making.  With  regard  to  the  song  of  birds,  however,  which 
is  thought  to  be  equally  instinctive,  the  experiment  has  been 
tried ;  and  it  is  found  that  young  birds  never  have  the  song 
peculiar  to  their  species  if  they  have  not  heard  it,  whereas 
they  acquire  very  easily  the  song  of  almost  any  other  bird 
with  which  they  are  associated."  ^ 

"  The  sounds  uttered  by  birds  offer  in  several  respects 
the  nearest  analogy  to  language,  for  all  the  members  of 
the  same  species  utter  the  same  instinctive  cries,  expressive 
of  their  emotions ;  and  all  the  kinds  that  have  the  power 
of  singing  exert  this  power  instinctively;  but  the  actual 
song,  and  even  the  call-notes,  are  learnt  from  their  parents 
or  foster-parents.  These  sounds,  as  Daines  Barrington 
has  proved,  *  are  no  more  innate  than  language  is  in  man.' 
The  first  attempts  to  sing  'may  be  compared  to  the 
imperfect  endeavour  in  a  child  to  babble.'  The  young 
males  continue  practising,  or,  as  the  bird-catchers  say, 
recording,  for  ten  or  eleven  months.  Their  first  essays 
show  hardly  a  rudiment  of  the  future  song ;  but  as  they 
grow  older  we  can  perceive  what  they  are  aiming  at,  and  at 
last  they  are  said  'to  sing  their  song  round.'  Nestlings 
which  have  learnt  the  song  of  a  distinct  species,  as  with  the 
canary  birds  educated  in  the  Tyrol,  teach  and  transmit 
their  new  song  to  their  offspring.  The  slight  natural 
differences  of  song  in  the  same  species  inhabiting  different 
districts  may  be  appositely  compared,  as  Barrington  remarks, 
*  to  provincial  dialects ; '  and  the  songs  of  all  aUied  though 
distinct  species  may  be  compared  with  the  languages  of 
distinct  races  of  man."  2 

We  see  in  like  manner  that  human  beings  only  speak  as 
they  have  been  taught ;  but  it  would  be  interesting  to  know 


Natural  Selection^  Essays  by  A.  Russel  Wallace,  p.  220. 
^  Darwin,  Descent  of  Man^  vol.  i.,  p.  55. 


ON    EXPRESSION   AND  LANGUAGE.  243 

if,  in  the  existing  stage  of  the  development  of  the  human 
brain,  they  would  not  of  themselves  evolve  a  sort  of 
hereditary  language,  of  which  the  first  efforts  of  infant 
language  would  be  the  basis.  The  experiment  made, 
according  to  Herodotus,  by  king  Psammetichus,  is  not,  in 
this  respect,  either  sufficient  or  even  authentic.  The  king 
of  Egypt,  curious  to  know  what  was  the  most  ancient 
nation  of  the  world,  had  two  new-born  children  shut  up  in 
a  cottage,  where  they  could  hear  no  one  speak,  and  where 
they  saw  no  other  living  beings  than  the  goats  who  nourished 
them.  At  the  age  of  two  years,  when  some  one  went  into 
their  room,  these  two  little  savages  uttered  the  word  beccos^ 
which  signifies  bread  in  the  Phrygian  tongue.  Psamme- 
tichus, so  runs  the  legend,  then  thought  himself  sufficiently 
authorized  in  proclaiming  the  Phrygians  to  be  the  most 
ancient  people  of  the  world.  We  shall  be  more  exacting 
than  this  royal  experimentalist.  We  declare  ourselves  to 
be  absolutely  incapable  of  deciding  i /r/<?W,  whether  children 
subjected  for  a  sufficient  length  of  time  to  a  like  treatment 
would  work  out  for  themselves  anything  like  a  real  language, 
what  sort  of  language  it  would  be,  and  what  sort  of  ideas 
would  be  evolved  in  their  brains,  abandoned  solely  to  the 
resources  of  hereditary  transmission  and  imitation  of 
nature. 

Most  of  the  recorded  facts  relating  to  the  sequestration 
of  human  beings  at  a  tender  age,  and  which  some  philoso- 
phers think  conclusive,  we  regard  simply  as  not  having 
happened,  as  far  as  science  is  concerned. 

"We  read  sometimes  in  the  newspaper,  of  the  brutal 
state  of  those  unfortunate  beings  whom  avarice  or  cruelty 
had  from  their  early  childhood  kept  confined  in  dark  cellars, 
and  excluded  from  all  social  intercourse  and  intellectual 
excitement.  The  physical  and  mental  state  of  such  indivi- 
duals is  mere  vegetation,  not  a  developed  human  existence. 
.  .  .  It  was  impossible  to  impart  to  the  well-known 
Caspar  Hauser  the  idea  of  a  horse.  When  the  word  was 
pronounced,  he  thought  of  a  wooden  toy  which  he  played 
with  during  his  imprisonment,  being  unable  to  attach 
any  meaning  to  the  word   horse  but  in  this   connection. 


244   THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

.  .  .  Corresponding  observations  have  been  made  on 
men,  who  from  their  earUest  childhood  had  Hved  and 
grown  up  among  animals,  removed  from  the  society  of  men. 
They  lived  and  supported  themselves  like  animals,  they 
had  no  spiritual  wants  ;  they  could  not  speak,  and  exhibited 
not  a  trace  of  that  *  divine  spark,'  which  is  said  to  be  innate 
in  man."i  The  observations  of  this  well-known  German 
materialist  have  no  semblance  of  scientific  experiment. 
That  an  infant  hidden  away  in  a  dark  cell,  that  a  young 
savage  nurtured  by  goats,  and  who  actually  lived  and  grew 
up  in  the  woods,  should  not  be  able  to  speak,  or  show  by 
the  ordinary  means  of  those  who  can  speak,  that  they  have 
any  general  or  specific  ideas  of  existence,  is  not  at  all 
surprising.  But  is  it  certain  that  they  did  not  possess  ideas 
— even  general  ones — though  they  had  no  means  of  express- 
ing them  ?  If  five  or  six  children  were  shut  up  together, 
would  they  not  evolve  a  common  language  ?  This  has  not 
yet  been  tried.  This  experiment,  easier  to  make  and  less 
barbarous  than  might  be  supposed,  would  no  doubt  enable 
us  to  arrive  at  something  more  than  conjectures  on  the 
origin  and  nature  of  language,  and  on  those  interesting 
problems  of  psychogenesis,  which  contemporary  philosophy 
approaches  with  so  much  reserve  and  so  few  results,  but  of 
which  natural  science  is  preparing  the  probable  solutions. 

The  ideas  propounded  by  M.  Taine  on  the  acquisition  of 
language  by  children  are  a  mixture,  somewhat  confused  at 
times,  of  the  theory  of  Condillac  and  the  modern  theory  of 
selection. 

According  to  him,  children  begin  to  exercise  their  vocal 
organs  by  a  continuous  series  of  cries  and  varied  exclama- 
tions ;  for  several  months  they  do  not  get  beyond  vowels ; 
"by  perpetual  groping  and  attempts,  and  by  gradual  selection, 
consonants  are  added  to  the  vowels,  and  the  exclamations 
become  more  and  more  articulate."  At  twelve  months  old, 
his  daughter  appears  to  him  to  have  acquired  the  material 
of  language,  without  attaching   any   sense  to  the  sounds 

»  Buchner,  Force  and  Matter.  See  English  translation  by  J.  F. 
CollingwGod,  p,  164. 


ON   EXPRESSION   AND  LANGUAGE.  245 

which  she  uttered.  "All  the  initiative,"  he  says,  "is  her 
own  ;  it  is  personal,  accidental,  and  momentary  invention 
which  have  caused  her  to  find  and  to  repeat  such  sounds  as 
■mm^  kraaau,  papapa ;  example  and  education  have  only 
served  to  direct  her  attention  to  sounds  which  she  had 
either  attempted  or  found  out  for  herself."  I  must  say  that 
in  my  opinion  the  list  of  sounds  originated  by  children  is 
a  very  limited  one,  and  little  adapted  for  the  basis  of  any 
solid  argument,  touching  the  respective  roles  of  personal 
initiative  and  of  imitation  in  the  acquisition  of  language. 

Pleading  still  the  cause  of  the  spontaneity  of  invention 
or  re-invention,  which  precedes  in  children  the  work  of  as- 
similation, M.  Taine  affirms  (no  doubt  with  reason)  that 
this  infantine  babble  is  of  astounding  flexibility  and  variety 
of  meaning,  and  that  every  shade  of  emotion, — astonishment, 
gaiety,  vexation,  sadness,  etc., — is  expressed  in  its  various 
tones. 

Mr.  Darwin  also  contributes  some  observations  on  the 
means  of  communication  possessed  by  children.  These 
are,  at  first,  instinctive  cries  intended  to  express  suffering  in 
general  \  after  a  time,  the  tones  vary  according  as  pain  or 
hunger  is  the  cause  of  the  utterances  ;  a  little  later,  the  power 
of  voluntary  tears  is  added  ;  at  the  age  of  forty-six  days, 
there  are  little  varied  sounds  produced,  as  if  by  pleasure  ;  at 
113  days,  we  see  the  first  attempt  at  a  smile,  and  possibly 
at  the  same  date  efforts  to  imitate  sounds.  The  articulate 
sound  da  is  formed  at  five-and:a-half  months.  "  When  a 
year  old,  he  tried  to  invent  a  word  to  designate  his  food,  and 
produced  the  sound  mum  ;  and  henceforth  this  syllable  sig- 
nified :  "  Give  me  something  to  eat"  This  word  corres- 
ponds to  the  ham  used  by  M.  Taine's  child,  so  Mr.  Darwin 
tells  us,  and  he  seems  to  attribute  it  wholly  to  spontaneity 
and  not  to  imitation,  for  he  adds  that  he  does  not  know 
"  what  led  the  child  to  adopt  that  particular  syllable." 

M.  Egger  notices  at  five  weeks  old  the  transition  from 
the  cry  to  the  voice.  The  cry  is  the  first  sound  that  the 
human  organ  makes ;  it  proceeds  from  the  bottom  of  the 
larynx  and  dates  from  the  moment  of  the  first  breath.  For 
several  weeks  it  is  the  only  sound  a  child  can   make  when 


246   THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

he  is  in  pain.  "  Towards  the  fifth  week  I  observe  the 
mouth  and  tongue  beginning  to  move  (especially  when  joy 
is  felt),  and  to  produce  sounds  which  cannot  be  represented 
by  any  letters  in  our  alphabet,  but  which  are  certainly  less 
guttural  than  the  previous  sounds.  These  last  sounds,  as 
they  go  on  perfecting  themselves,  become  real  articulations. 
.  .  .  With  Felix  this  distinct  utterance  of  a  cry  of  pain 
was  scarcely  heard  before  the  end  of  the  second  month." 

As  regards  the  infant  voice,  M.  Egger  makes  one  obser- 
vation which  does  not  appear  to  me  to  be  borne  out  by 
facts ;  it  is,  "  that  the  voices  of  children  in  earliest  infancy 
are  not  characterized  by  an  individual  tijtibre.  The  voice 
acquires  a  distinct  character  at  the  same  time  that  it  be- 
comes articulate,  and  that  we  can  distinguish  vowels  and 
consonants  in  it."  I  have  no  contrary  observation  to  oppose 
to  this  statement,  but  I  read  in  a  pamphlet  of  Dr.  Laurent's, 
that  *'  the  particular  timbre  of  the  infant's  cry  varies  like  the 
human  voice.  In  each  child  it  exhibits  particular  modifica- 
tions, which  language  cannot  express,  but  which  the  ear  can 
seize;  and  a  mother  can  distinguish  her  own  child's  cry 
from  that  of  others."  This  point  then,  more  interesting 
to  the  philologist  and  the  naturalist  than  to  the  psychologist, 
calls  for  fresh  information. 

M.  Egger,  like  M.  Taine,  assigns  a  large  share  in  the  de- 
velopment of  language  to  personal  initiative  and  invention. 
Besides  the  natural  language  of  tears,  cries,  smiles,  and 
gestures,  "  which  becomes  the  commencement  of  artificial 
language  when  intention  is  mixed  with  it,"  he  admits  the 
involuntary  play  of  the  voice,  which,  from  the  age  of  six 
months,  causes  infinite  variety  in  the  attempted  sounds  and 
articulations.  Thus  we  seem  to  have  an  instinctive,  natural 
language,  common  to  all  times  and  all  people,  which  recedes 
gradually  before  the  progress  of  another  language,  invented 
by  the  child  and  susceptible  of  a  host  of  individual  varia- 
tions. Neither  M.  Egger  nor  M.  Taine  have  noted  the 
forms  of  this  language,  which,  according  to  them,  is  spon- 
taneous. Their  observations  have  too  vague  and  gene- 
ral a  character  for  their  conclusions  to  be  definite.  One 
must  undoubtedly  admit,  even  in  the  first  period  of  infant 


ON    EXPRESSION   AND   LANGUAGE.  247 

babbling,  that  there  is  an  hereditary  instinct  which  urges 
the  young  nurseling,  like  the  young  bird,  to  try  its  voice, 
according  to  the  measure  of  the  feeble  resources  of  its 
organs,  for  pleasure  rather  than  necessity,  and  from  chance 
rather  than  voluntary  imitation.  But  already,  even  at  this 
period,  involuntary  imitation,  organic  sympathy,  and  musical 
contagion  have  their  part  in  the  work.  As  to  this  first 
period  of  artificial  language,  particular  to  each  child,  useful 
for  inter-communication  with  other  children,  and  especially 
with  his  nurse  and  his'parents,  it  seems  to  me  rash  to  affirm, 
without  the  slightest  experimental  proof,  that  "  there  is  not 
one  of  his  wants  for  which  he  does  not  invent  one  or  several 
articulate  sounds,  without  any  example  being  set  him,  in- 
tentionally or  otherwise." 

One  of  the  most  competent  observers,  M.  A.  de  la  Calle, 
has  just  made  a  notable  contribution  to  the  store  of  published 
observations  on  the  formation  of  infant  speech.  Accord- 
ing to  him  it  is  very  difficult  during  the  first  three  months 
to  observe  any  appreciable  phonetic  phenomena.  This 
difficulty,  however,  has  not  discouraged  him,  and  we 
have  his  permission  to  quote  some  of  his  important  obser- 
vations. In  one  of  his  children  he  noticed  on  the  forty-fifth 
day  a  little  bleating  sound  which  accompanied  his  smiles  ; 
and  from  this  date  the  child  seemed  to  take  pleasure  in 
exercising  his  phonetic  organ.  "  At  this  period  of  life,"  he 
says,  "the  faculty  of  imitation  has  not  yet  shown  itself,  and 
one  cannot  admit  that  these  babblings  represent  attempts  to 
imitate  any  sounds  heard,  or  the  songs  with  which  the  nurses 
lull  them  to  sleep."  He  attributes  the  pleasure  which  the 
child  finds  in  this  babbling,  which  is  as  yet  neither  expres- 
sive nor  musical,  rather  to  a  combination  of  reflex  actions 
associated  for  the  first  time  with  conscious  effort.  He  has 
moreover  remarked  that  his  children  produced  these  bab- 
blings with  varied  tones,  more  particularly  under  the  influ- 
ence of  some  agreeable  impression  ;  he  adds  with  reason  : 
"  What  is  certain  is,  that  these  sounds,  reiterated  and  more 
or  less  continuous,  have  more  affinity  with  the  sounds  of 
laughter  than  of  tears.  .  .  .  Natural  selection  ought  to 
bear  principally  on  the  sounds  expressing  agreeable  sensa- 


248    THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

tions,  in  virtue  of  the  principle  that  "  all  pleasurable  states 
mean  an  augmentation  of  part  or  the  whole  of  the  vital 
functions." 

M.  de  la  Calle  has  endeavoured  to  arrive  at  an  exact 
summary  of  the  variety,  number,  and  value  of  the  different 
sounds  which  a  child  utters  before  the  appearance  of  any- 
thing approaching  to  an  articulate  syllable  ;  and  though  he 
could  only  succeed,  he  says,  in  obtaining  a  statement  of  the 
fact,  he  endeavours  to  determine  the  eight  different  sounds 
which  compose  the  musical  scale  which  a  child  goes  through 
several  times  in  the  day.  He  notes  in  the  first  place  the 
apparition  of  the  vowel  «,  which  he  calls  the  vocal  or  sound- 
ing cellule ;  the  sound  ai^  4  is  produced  next,  and  sometimes 
at  the  same  time,  as  au^  and  <?,  which  are  only  the  first  dif- 
ferentiations of  the  primitive  sound  a. 

"At  the  age  of  six  months,  Fernando  used  to  execute 
a  very  characteristic  series  of  sounds;  with  the  help  of 
this  single  sound  a  he  could  sometimes  keep  up  a  con- 
versation for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  with  his  mother  or 
nurse,  laughing,  gesticulating,  and  babbling  all  on  this  same 
vowel,  which  he  varied  with  infinite  shades  of  meaning, 
with  modulations  and  particular  inflections,  and  with  a 
fluidity,  so  to  say,  which  our  organs,  stiffened  with  use, 
would  be  altogether  incapable  of.  The  intensity,  swiftness, 
duration,  and  pitch  of  the  sound  were  varied  by  insensible 
gradations,  with  alternations  and  repetitions  excessively 
I  curious  to  study. 

\  "  A  little  later,  at  eight  or  nine  months  (and  now  he  had 
the  additional  help  of  physiognomic  and  imitative  expres- 
sion), he  still  used  by  preference  this  same  vowel  a^ — though 
he  already  knew  how  to  articulate  several  syllables, — for 
pointing  out,  naming,  calling,  and  asking  for  all  sorts  of 
things  and  objects  :  ah  (inspiration)  signified  astonishment 
and  content;  hh  (expiration),  a  call  or  indication  of  all 
things  and  objects;  ha,  ha,  ha,  very  short  and  repeated,  to 
ask  for  something  which  he  saw  and  wanted;  hd,  hd^ 
sustained,  when  he  thought  something  very  pretty,  and 
to  express  admiration  generally.  Hd,  hd^  hd^  to  inti- 
mate a  wish  that  some  one  should  hold  his  hand  to  walk; 


ON   EXPRESSION   AND   LANGUAGE.  249 

sometimes  too  that  he  wanted  to  be  taken  out  of  doors. 
Gestures,  and  the  expression  of  the  countenance  came  in 
noticeably  to  the  help  of  his  interjections,  the  child  pointing 
out  the  desired  object,  or  else  extending  his  hand  and  con- 
tracting his  fingers  several  times  as  if  to  seize  it ;  the  direc- 
tion of  the  eyes  and  the  expression  of  the  look,  the  move- 
ments of  the  body, — in  short,  all  the  expressive  manifesta- 
tions that  we  Jjave  already  studied, — are  used  by  children 
with  more  or  less  skill. 

I  have  also  remarked  that  in  certain  cases  the  sound  ai 
was  produced  at  the  same  time,  especially  on  the  higher 
notes  ;  but  I  have  not  been  able  to  distinguish  o  very  pure 
in  any  of  my  children.  It  was  only  when  they  were  crying 
that  I  ever  noticed  it,  and  then  it  was  like  a  compound  sound 
or  diphthong ;  0  absolutely  pure  I  have  only  been  able  to 
observe  in  the  articulate  voice,  before  or  after  eight  or  nine 
months,  according  to  the  individual.  The  following  have 
seemed  to  me  accurate  transcriptions  of  my  children's  cry- 
ing sounds.  After  the  third  month  [the  sounds  are  French] 
a-hd^  a-hd^  d-hd^  e-he,  heu  ! !  dh,  dh,  oeu  / 1  oheUj  d-hd,  d-hd^ 
d'hdy  oheu  !  e-he,  e-he,  e-he^  d-hd,  etc.,  etc.  But  these  cries 
are  not  those  of  the  sharp  grief,  which  is  expressed  by  dh  or 
eh  f    .     .     .     always  deep  and  screeching. 

"This  preference,  eminently  physiological  in  children, 
for  the  vowel  «,  inspired  or  expired,  as  the  case  may  be, 
is  significant  of  the  part  that  it  plays  in  all  rudimentary 
and  primitive  tongues.  It  is  the  simple  cellule,  the  phono- 
logical embryo  of  spoken  language." 

It  would  take  too  long  to  give  even  a  simple  reswne  of 
all  the  observations  made  by  M.  de  la  Calle  on  the  first 
phonations,  on  the  vowels,  diphthongs,  gutturals,  and  labials. 
We  must  be  content  to  mention  the  principal  phases  of  this 
evolution. 

"At  four  months  and  a  half,  he  articulated  the  first 
explosive  sound  joined  to  the  phonetic  a,  saying  dp^  pd^ 
dp'  pd,  with  an  effort,  which  was  evidently  very  great,  for 
he  opened  his  eyelids  wide  and  his  eyes  became  very  bright. 

"  Some  days  after,  he  produced  the  sounds  '  mafn'  ma, 
mam  md  with  less  effort,  or  I  should  perhaps  say  with  an 


250   THE   FIRST  THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

effort  already  better  localized  in  the  organs  of  speech ;  for 
though  his  eyes  again  sparkled,  his  eye-lids  did  not  move ; 
the  effort  is  here  characterized  by  the  nasal  sound  itself,  as 
if  the  child  wanted  to  speak  and  yet  could  not.  It  is  in 
fact  the  iJiu-tnu  of  the  deaf  and  dumb,  by  which  they  inform 
us  that  they  are  not  able,  or  do  not  know  how  to  speak. 
The  English  have  a  word  mum,  which  means  "  Hold  your 
ton^e  !"  ^ 

"  At  five  months  he  had  in  a  slight  degree  conquered 
the  difficulty,  and  could  accomplish  the  articulation  during 
the  expiration  of  a  breath,  and  he  could  sdij pdpd  (sharp), 
mdmd  (a  Uttle  less  sharp),  but  both  words  were  very  short 
and  staccato. 

When  he  was  in  a  passion,  he  gave  out  a  prolonged 
staphylin-guttural  cry,  clenching  his  fists  and  getting  very 
red  in  the  face ;  one  would  have  said  it  was  the  cry  of  a 
monkey ;  but  when  he  felt  very  joyous,  or  if  any  one 
tickled  him  for  any  length  of  time,  and  his  laugh  became 
spasmodic,  the  sound  was  prolonged  from  the  expiration  to 
the  inspiration  of  the  breath,  and  he  then  produced  a  sharp 
khr-ahr,  exactly  like  the  sound  of  an  animal.  I  myself 
provoked  the  repetition  of  this  performance  two  or  three 
times,  in  order  to  be  quite  certain  about  it ;  then  he  put 
himself  in  a  rage  again,  pouted  his  lips,  began  to  cry,  and 
I  was  obliged  quickly  to  kiss  him  in  order  to  gain  pardon 
for  my  strange  behaviour.  Often,  when  he  was  happy  and 
satisfied,  but  not  over-excited,  he  would  articulate  the 
vowel  e  with  a  little  explosive  sound,  medio-lingual,  medio- 
palatal— ke-cke,  and  he  would  amuse  himself  by  repeating  it 
for  some  time  while  he  was  apparently  carefully  examining 
his  fingers  and  hands  which  he  turned  round  and  round,  or 
else  inspecting  all  over  some  object  which  had  been  given 
him  to  play  with. 

"  The  modulations  were  often  changed  unconsciously  and 
without  signification ;  it  was  a  vocal  exercise  which  he 
practised  for  pleasure,  and  which  had  gradually  taken  the 
place  of  the  babblii^gs  of  earlier  days ;  but  considerable 
progress  had  been  made  by  means  of  these  articulations, 
for  the  child  now  possessed  all  the  materials  for  words. 


ON   EXPRESSION   AND   LANGUAGE.  25 1 

"  The  sound  ke-cke  became  now  kd-ckd,  now  ak-kd^  now, 
td-td-td,  d-td-fd,  d-bd-bd-bd,  dd-dd-ddy  and  then  pe-pe-pe, 
be-bi-be,  etc.  A  kind  of  gentle  plaint,  either  when  he  was 
worried  by  being  dressed,  or  in  any  other  way, — for  instance, 
if  he  was  hungry  and  was  made  to  wait  a  little  for  his  food  ; 
aya'  ya  !  aya'  ya  !  aya'  ya  !  was  a  differentiation  which  I 
think  I  have  only  remarked  at  nine  months  old ;  never- 
theless I  seem  to  have  heard  it  a  good  deal  sooner  in  my 
other  children.  However  that  may  be,  this  discovery  was 
very  important  to  the  child,  and  he  was  probably  aware  of 
it,  for  he  enriched  his  language  with  a  greater  variety  of 
compound  sounds  while  making  use  of  this  new  scale. 

"  Thus,  hd-hd,  he-he,  kd-kd,  which  were  already  a  great 
advance  in  faciHty  of  articulation  during  expiration,  were 
varied  by  differentiating  and  lending  themselves  to  new 
phonetic  combinations;  hd  hd  became  oyd^  yd;  he  he, 
eye  eye  ;  kd  kd  ;  kayd^  yd  kayo'  yd,  and  so  forth ;  and  the 
:5ong  would  begin  again  with  these  new  variations." 


III. 

We  have  now  come  to  the  period  of  the  most  important 
acquisitions  of  words. 

For  more  than  a  fortnight  I  have  been  observing  a  child 
of  twelve  months  who  is  backward  in  walking,  and  can  only 
toddle  along  when  held  by  the  hand,  but  who  is  very  pre- 
cocious in  talking.  A  month  ago  he  could  walk  alone,  but 
he  had  several  falls  and  he  is  now  afraid  to  repeat  the 
experiment,  and  if  &ny  one  tries  to  make  him  do  so  he  sits 
down  on  the  ground  and  says  ;  gno,  gno  {no,  no).  He 
knows  the  meaning  of  a  large  number  of  words  which  he 
hears,  and  he  uses  some  of  them  himself  in  the  ordinary 
sense ;  he  says  painm  to  ask  for  bread  {pain) ;  when  his 
frock  is  being  put  on,  and  he  sees  his  hand  coming  out 
through  the  sleeve,  he  calls  out  mainm.  His  brother  Charles, 
whose  games  and  mischievous  tricks  delight  him,  he  calls 
at  every  instant :  "  Kiah,  kiah."  Meat  {viande)  he  calls 
miamia7n  ;  niene  mefie  menk,  indicates  the  desire  to  go  from 
one  place  to   another ;  peudu  {perdu)  indicates  an  object 


252    THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

that  has  fallen,  or  been  thrown  away  or  disappeared ;  some- 
times he  says  a pu  {il  riy  a  plus)  to  express  that  a  thing 
is  either  eaten,  finished,  hidden,  or  taken  away.  He  imitates 
donkeys,  cats,  cocks,  and  especially  pigs  ;  when  he  wishes 
very  much  to  be  taken  out  by  a  particular  person,  and  has 
gained  his  desire,  he  expresses  his  great  pleasure  by  mimic- 
ing  that  interesting  animal.  The  other  day,  I  was  very 
much  astonished  at  hearing  him  reproduce  the  first 
syllable  of  a  word  spoken  in  his  presence.  "Will  you 
have  some  cake  {gateau)  ?"  his  nurse  had  said  to  him,  and 
he  instantly  answered :  Ga^  ga^  and  directed  the  attention 
of  his  nurse  towards  the  dining-room,  the  use  of  which  he 
already  knew,  although  he  had  only  been  in  the  house  two 
days.  He  also  knows  the  meaning  of  many  of  the  simple 
phrases  which  are  used  in  speaking  to  him.  There  is  no 
occasion  to  give  examples  of  these,  which  are  analogous  to 
those  already  quoted.  But  what  is  more  important,  I  heard 
him  the  other  day  attempting  a  thoroughly  synthetic  phrase 
by  putting  two  names  together ;  his  accompanying  tones, 
gestures,  and  movements  left  no  doubt  of  his  meaning.  He 
had  been  walking  with  me  for  several  minutes,  when  he 
saw  his  mother  and  wanted  to  go  to  her,  and  as  I  did  not 
instantly  take  him  to  her,  he  pulled  hold  of  me,  pointed  to 
his  mother,  and  with  a  supplicating  look  said  several  times : 
papa — maman  (papa,  lead  me  to  mamma).  A  little  later,  and 
he  would  have  interposed  the  word  mene  {lead)  between  the 
two  names.  The  advance  however  was  not  made  this  same 
day,  perhaps  because  I  had  not  the  patience  to  wait,  but 
obeyed  the  child's  wish  too  quickly.  ''  Besides  the  move- 
ment of  the  head  from  left  to  right  to  signify  no^  and  that 
of  pointing  out  an  object  with  the  hand,  I  have  noticed 
another  very  characteristic  one.  When  any  one  sings  or 
plays  the  piano,  he  sways  backwards  and  forwards  rhyth- 
mically and  almost  in  time  ;  he  has  been  accustomed  to 
do  this  since  he  was  five  months  old ;  and  he  sometimes 
accompanies  the  movements  with  a  musical  brunwi. 

In  another  child,  thirteen  months  old,  I  have  noticed  an 
expressive  gesture  which  I  have  not  yet  quite  made  up  my 
mind  about.      His  parents  assui'e  me  that  they  have  not 


ON   EXPRESSION   AND   LANGUAGE.  253 

taught  him  a  movement  of  indication  with  the  forefinger, 
which  might  be  hereditary,  or  might  proceed  by  selection 
and  simphfication  from  the  act  of  prehension.  Here  is 
another  action  whose  evolutionary  origin  does  not  appear 
to  me  to  be  absolutely  demonstrated.  In  the  same  child, 
the  gesture  of  negation,  which  consisted  in  waving  the  hand 
backwards  and  forwards,  may  be  considered  in  principle  as 
a  derivation  of  the  action  of  pushing  away  any  disagreeable 
thing.  Two  months  ago  there  was  no  difference  between 
the  movements  with  which  this  child  pushed  away  anything 
on  the  table  which  he  did  not  want,  and  his  refusal  of 
anything  that  was  offered  to  him  which  did  not  suit  him. 
At  present  he  uses  this  gesture  in  the  following  way  also  ; 
if  he  sees  some  one  out  of  doors  who  reminds  him  of  his 
father  or  mother,  he  considers  the  person  attentively,  and 
after  perceiving  his  mistake  he  says  :  mamma,  papa,  accom- 
panying the  word  with  this  gesture  of  refusal  or  repulsion, 
which  is  his  way  of  saying  no.  The  gesture  of  the  head 
meaning  jw,  he  made  at  a  very  early  age,  I  am  told,  with- 
out having  seen  it  made.  It  is  a  gesture  evidently  reflex, 
like  the  half-shutting  of  the  eye-lids  which  accompanies  it. 

A  Httle  girl,  nineteen  months  old,  has  already  accom- 
plished three-quarters  of  this  important  and  relatively  rapid 
process  of  evolution,  which  is  the  initiation  into  language. 
She  cannot  yet  say  any  phrases,  however  short,  though  she 
understands  the  meaning  of  a  great  many  tolerably  long 
ones  j  but  she  pronounces  a  quantity  of  words  intelligibly. 
There  was  no  difficulty  in  making  her  pass  from  inarticulate 
to  articulate  sounds ;  she  felt  after  them  instinctively,  but 
she  needed  the  help  of  imitation  to  enunciate  them  easily 
and  distinctly. 

Some  months  ago,  when  she  was  beginning  the  acquisition 
of  her  vocabulary  (now  a  very  rich  one),  she  could  only  re- 
produce the  last  emphasized  syllable  of  a  word;  and  she 
used  to  alter  its  articulation  according  to  the  rule  of  what 
was  least  effort,  ^t  is  noteworthy,  that  in  the  language  of 
children,  as  of  primitive  races,  the  roots  or  first  attempts  are 
monosyllabic  sounds ;  in  young  animals  the  voice  itself  is 
only  a  single  guttural  or  labial  intonati  on,  prolonged  or  re- 


254   THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

peated  at  short  intervals.  The  puppy  does  not  at  once  give 
forth  the  characteristic  bark  of  the  dog,  which  the  French 
represent  as  wrroua  (with  a  guttural  r),  nor  the  kitten  the 
miaou  of  the  cat,  nor  the  young  house-sparrow  or  swallow, 
their  kioii-kiou  or  tyi  tyiri.  Their  first  vocal  attempts  are 
rudely  simple  and  monosyllabic.  The  same  with  children ; 
they  more  easily  pronounce  reduphcated  monosyllables,  as 
in  papa,  mama,  than  dissyllables  such  as  gateau,  7ninet.  They 
will  sometimes  even  bring  out  diphthongs,  which  are  varieties 
of  monosyllables  like  oua,  mia,  7nte,  etc.  For  a  long  time 
they  rebel  against  real  dissyllables,  and  still  longer  against 
polysyllables.  For  a  long  time  this  little  girl,  whom  I  have 
observed  ever  since  her  birth,  up  to  the  twenty-second  month, 
but  unfortunately  without  noting  each  step  of  her  progress, 
could  only  say  bou  for  tambour,  fe  for  cafe,  ye  for  Pierre,  etc 
By  perseveringly  separating  each  syllable  for  her  very  clearly, 
her  mother  at  last  succeeded  in  making  her  pronounce  the 
distinct  syllables  of  the  words.  The  mother  repeated  slowly 
and  distinctly,  tambour,  Georget,  pomme,  paifi,  gateau;  and 
after  a  considerable  number  of  fruitless  lessons,  the  little 
pupil  succeeded  in  articulating,  a-bou,  o-ye,  om,  pai ,  a-teau, 
etc.  It  was  the  same  with  a  number  of  other  words,  which 
she  now  pronounces  distinctly  enough,  save  for  the  modifi- 
cations of  the  consonants,  which  vary  with  every  child. 
There  are  no  rules  in  children's  pronunciation  of  the  sounds 
which  they  imitate.  A  child  of  fifteen  months  who  says 
a-io  for  bateau,  iox gateau  says  ca-co  or  cacou,  or  even  a-ca-cou, 
when  in  a  very  voluble  mood.  He  says  tu-tu  for  tortue 
(tortoise),  and  also  for  confiture  (jam).  The  same  syllable 
pronounced  in  one  way,  in  one  word,  is  often  pronounced 
differently  in  another  word,  or  doubled,  or  augmented  by  a 
useless  syllable. 

In  general,  we  see  clearly  in  infant  language,  the  appli- 
cation of  certain  rules  which  philosophy  has  long  recognised 
in  the  transformations  of  language ;  and  among  others,  the 
modifications  produced  by  the  tendency  of  individuals  to 
diminish  the  muscular  efforts  of  pronunciation.  It  is  a  very 
common  thing  in  France  among  French  people  to  hear 
particulier  pronounced  like  particuyer,  cuiller  like  cuye;  and 


ON    EXPRESSION   AND   LANGUAGE.  255 

this  tendency  to  pronounce  //  like  y  is  on  the  increase,  by 
virtue  of  the  law  of  the  leas/  effort. 

In  like  manner  children  begin  by  pronouncing  the  conso- 
nants which  are  easiest  to  articulate,  and  they  modify  them 
little  by  little  in  proportion  as  their  organs  become  stronger 
and  more  practised. 

Mr.  F.  Pollock  has  been  one  of  the  first  to  try  and  syste- 
matize in  phonetic  as  well  as  logical  order  the  first  infant 
gropings  after  language.  His  interesting  study  on  the 
"  Child's  Progress  in  Language,"  comprehends  the  period 
between  the  twelfth  and  the  twenty-fourth  month.  We  quote 
here  the  most  essential  points  : — 

"Age,  twelve  months.  M-m  often  repeated  !  dd  bd  re- 
peated an  indefinite  number  of  times. 

"  M-m  generally  indicated  a  want  of  something.  Bd  bd 
was  (i)  a  sort  of  general  demonstrative,  standing  for  the 
child  herself,  other  people,  or  the  cat  (I  do  not  think  she 
appHed  it  to  inanimate  objects)  \  (2)  an  interjection,  ex- 
pressing satisfaction.  Both  sounds,  however,  seemed  often 
to  be  made  without  distinct  intention,  as  mere  exercise  of 
the  vocal  organs. 

"  Thirteen  months.  Dd  dd  was  used,  at  first  as  a  vague 
demonstrative  (and  about  six  weeks  later  it  became  a  dis- 
tinct proper  name  for  the  child's  father).  Wa  wa,  meant 
water,  drink ;  wah,  wah,  with  a  guttural  sound  distinct  from 
the  foregoing,  was  said  to  figures  of  animals — dogs  or  cats, 
which  she  now  recognised  in  pictures.  This  fact  is  curious, 
having  regard  to  the  inability  of  adult  savages,  as  reported 
by  travellers,  to  make  anything  of  even  the  simplest  repre- 
sentations of  objects.  Nd-ndy  signified  nurse — of  course  as 
proper,  not  generic  name. 

"  Fifteen  months.  M-m  discontinued.  Bd  bd  was  some- 
times used  instead,  and  sometimes  she  simply  cried  for  a 
desired  object.  Wah  wah,  miau^  soon  became  generic 
names  of  dog  and  cat  {jvah  wah,  which  at  first  included  cat, 
becoming  appropriated  to  dog).  I  think,  however,  wah  wah 
would  include  any  middling-sized  quadruped  other  than  a 
cat  or  a  sheep.  As  to  cat,  her  name  for  it  became  a  few 
months  later  aya-m  or  ayd-m,  which,  so  far  as  I  know,  she  in- 


256   THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

vented  for  herself.  The  conventional  '  gee  gee  '  for  horse 
was  very  soon  understood  by  her,  though  she  could  not  form 
the  /  sound.  She  recognised  a  zebra  in  a  picture  alphabet 
as  *  gee  gee '  and  showed  marked  dissent  when  told  it  was 
a  zebra. 

"  These  imitative  sounds  were  all  learnt  on  the  suggestion 
of  adults,  but  studied  from  the  real  sounds ;  for,  as  made  by» 
the  child,  they  are  decidedly  nearer  to  the  real  sounds  than 
the  baa  baa,  etc.,  used  by  adult  voices. 

" '  Baby '  (or  rather  be  bi),  was  now  formed  with  fair 
success,  but  soon  dropped  for  a  time.  About  a  month 
afterwards  it  was  resumed,  and  became  the  child's  name  for 
herself  This  was  long  before  she  attempted  any  other 
dissyllable.  It  was  pronounced,  however,  rather  as  a  re- 
duplicated monosyllable. 

"  Seventeenth  to  eighteenth  month.  Her  vocabulary  is 
now  increasing  fast,  and  almost  any  word  proposed  to  the 
child  is  imitated  with  some  real  effort  at  correctness.  The 
range  of  articulate  sounds  is  still  very  hmited ;  a,  a,  i  (short 
and  long)  are  the  only  vowels  fully  under  command  ;  a  occurs 
in  a  few  words,  and  is  the  result  of  attempts  to  form  0  :  thus, 
nd  =  nose.  The  long  sound  of  English  i  (ai)  cannot  be 
pronounced ;  when  she  tries  to  imitate  it,  she  says  id  or  i-a. 
No  approach  is  yet  made  to  the  peculiar  short  EngHsh 
sound  of  a  in  such  words  as  hat,  bat.  Of  consonants,  g,  /,  r 
(the  true  consonant  initial  sound),  the  final  semivowel, 
as  in  more,  poor,  is  easy  enough  to  her,  and  sibilants, 
aspirates,  and  palatals  are  not  yet  mastered.  '  Guy '  (a 
younger  cousin's  name)  is  called  dd,  produced  far  back  in 
the  mouth  j  k  is  also  produced  far  back  in  the  mouth,  with 
an  approach  to  /.  Final  consonants  are  seldom  or  never 
given.  With  the  exception  of  '  baby '  nd-ni,  nd-nd,  the 
vocabulary  is  essentially  monosyllabic.  She  once  said 
'  lady '  pretty  well,  but  did  not  take  it  into  use.  No  con- 
struction is  yet  attempted.  But  even  with  these  resources 
the  child  already  contrives  to  express  a  good  deal,  filling 
up  the  meaning  of  her  syllables  with  a  great  variety  of  tone, 
and  also  with  inarticulate  interjections.  Impatience,  satis- 
faction, amusement,  are  all  very  well  marked ;  and  perhaps 


ON   EXPRESSION   AND  LANGUAGE.  257 

even  intellectual  dissent  (in  the  case  of  '  zebra '  and  *  gee- 
gee  ')j  see  previous  page." 

Amongst  other  acquisitions  (from  fifteenth  to  nineteenth 
month)  we  may  notice  the  word/^^r,  with  no  appreciable 
difference  from  ordinary  adult  pronunciation,  and  which  was 
taught  as  an  expression  of  pity,  but  extended  to  mean  any 
kind  of  loss,  damage,  or  imperfection  in  an  object,  real  or 
supposed. 

"  Nineteen  months. — O  sound  now  distinctly  made,  and 
g  distinct  by  the  end  of  the  month.  '  Guy '  is  now  gd 
instead  of  dd.  L  and  /,  final,  and  even  /,  are  pronounced 
more  or  less  distinctly.  The  monosyllabic  form  still  prevails. 
^  is  a  favourite  sound,  and  she  has  several  words  formed 
with  it  which  are  kept  carefully  distinct.  X«  =  stool,  kah 
(later  kad)  =  cQ^  [liver  oil],  which  she  considers  a  treat. 
Ko  =  '  cosy '  (or  tea-pot),  kd  =  cold.  Kd  kd  =  chocolate, 
khieriy  or  /^//V«,  =  clean.  .  .  .  *$",  sh^  ch^  j\  are  on  the 
whole  indistinct.  ...  W,  v^  f^  are  now  formed,  but 
not  well  distinguished."  (Mr.  Pollock  thinks,  with  M. 
Taine,  that  infant  pronunciation  has  some  shades  which 
escape  adult  ears.) 

"  Twenty  months. — Dash  or  ddsk  =  diMSt  Ta'sh  or  td'shy 
learnt,  I  think,  from  'touch'  but  soon  dropped.  Tdsh, 
however,  is  adopted  for  [mous]tache.  Final  sibilants  are 
more  under  command  than  initial.  ...  A  sudden 
advance  made  to  dissyllables,  several  being  produced  with 
success  on  or  about  the  same  day.  Fanny,  honey,  money  ; 
fd-wdy  flower ;  la-ia,  letters ;  ha-pi,  happy ;  bd-ta^  butter ; 
A-siy  Alice.  R  is  still  very  impracticable,  and  attempts  to 
form  it  sometimes  give  d;  but  this  was  very  transient,  and  / 
soon  became  the  constant  substitute.  .  .  ."  (I  omit  a 
few  other  stages  of  progress  of  the  same  kind,  to  pass  on  to 
two  or  three  more  important  ones,  between  the  twenty-first 
and  twenty-second  months).  "  The  child  is  now  more  or 
less  able  to  answer  direct,  as  distinguished  from  leading 
questions.  Thus,  when  she  had  been  paying  a  visit  to  some 
relations  and  cried  to  go  home,  she  gave  afterwards  (March 
17)  a  pretty  connected  account  of  it  in  monosyllabic 
answers.      '  What  did  you  do   to-day  at ? '      *  Klai,' 


258    THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

(cry).  '  What  did  you  cry  for  ?  '  *  ^7^:^,' (home).  Also, 
when  told  not  to  handle  a  forbidden  object,  such  as  a  knife, 
she  will  say,  in  a  tone  of  intelligent  acquiescence ;  no — dd-dd 
{i,e,,  I  may  not  have  that,  but  dd-dd  may).  One  trisyllable 
is  in  common  use  :  7>;zw  =  Tennyson,  an  illustrated  edition 
which  divides  her  attention  with  Vats  (Watts). 

"At  twenty-one  months  I  noticed  a  distinct  attempt  at 
grammatical  construction,  by  the  use  of  a  real  predicate  so 
as  to  form  a  complete  proposition.  The  child  had  been 
told,  half  in  joke,  that  cabs  were  dirty  as  compared  with 
her  perambulator.  For  some  days  she  had  been  accustomed 
to  say  *  dirty '  on  the  mention  of  perambulator.  Now  she 
made  the  whole  statement  for  herself;  Kabz  dati,  klam  kUn, 
(Cabs  dirty,  peram'  clean).  .  .  .  (We  must  also  notice 
progress  with  regard  to  generic  names.) 

"  Twenty-two  months. — Vocabulary  and  power  of  expres- 
sion are  gradually  and  steadily  extending.  Zhdtis  is  often 
said  for  'There  it  is;'  ^ Out-pull-baby-pecs'  (spectacles);  '  Run 
away,  man  ; '  '  Mamma  get  Bessie  '  (her  doll).  .  .  .  The 
consonants  ch,j\  and  th  are  still  imperfect,  and  consonantal 
;'  is  not  yet  formed  at  all  .  .  ."  Mr.  Pollock  also 
records  some  expressions  indicative  of  the  dramatic  faculty 
in  the  child,  and  he  adds  :  "  I  may  observe  on  this,  that  I 
have  no  reason  to  doubt  that  all  the  play  with  her  doll  is 
purely  and  consciously  dramatic,  not  animistic;  in  other 
words,  I  have  seen  nothing  to  indicate  a  belief  that  the  doll 
is  really  alive ;  nor  is  there,  so  far  as  I  can  observe,  any 
tendency  to  attribute  life  to  other  inanimate  objects.  I 
think  the  child  is  perfectly  aware  of  the  ditference  between 
animals  and  things,  though  I  am  unable  to  give  specific 
reasons  for  this  impression."  ^ 

(At  this  age  there  appears  a  decided  tendency  to  imita- 
tion of  grown-up  people's  actions,  and  to  asking  questions.) 

''Twenty-three  months. — The  palatals,  dental  aspirates, 
and  the  peculiar  English  short  a  (as  in  "hat")  are  still  im- 
perfect, and  r  is  represented  by  /.  When  s  comes  before 
another  consonant,  one  of  the  two  is  dropped.     K  is  in 

*  See  Mind,  July,  1878,  vol.  iii.,  pp.  392-395.  \ 


ON   EXPRESSION   AND   LANGUAGE.  2$g 

some  words  confused  with  /  or  t  She  says  oken  for  '  open/ 
kek  for  '  take,'     .     .     ."  etc. 

M.  de  la  Calle  also  has  just  added  to  this  branch  of  study 
a  useful  contribution  of  personal  researches,  which  are  all 
the  more  valuable  as  he  explains  the  facts  collected  by  the 
scientific  laws  of  language.     We  quote  as  follows  : — 

"  I  have  observed,  for  instance,  an  absolutely  constant 
fact :  Hard  consonants  are  very  difficult  for  a  child  to  pro- 
nounce simultaneously  in  the  same  word ;  he  will  suppress 
the  one  and  change  the  other,  or  perhaps  replace  both,  if 
they  require  hard  expiration,  by  an  analogous  sound  with 
soft  expiration.  They  will  often  insert  a  vowel  sound 
between  the  two.  This  proceeding  reminds  us  of  the 
theory  admitted  by  philologists,  that  certain  double  con- 
sonants must  have'been  originally  separated  by  vowels  and 
afterwards  have  become  reunited,  sometimes  even  fused  in 
one,  like  the  Greek  \J/  (psi),  and  the  Latin  x  (gs). 

"  I  have  also  remarked  this  same  process  in  the  separa- 
tion of  diphthongs  by  an  interpolated  consonant,  sometimes 
amounting  to  a  sort  of  harmonious  reiteration  of  the  altered 
syllables ;  transposition  and  contraction  are  also  very  fre- 
quent. For  instance,  I  find  in  my  journal  that  Adolphus 
at  the  age  of  twenty-two  months  said  cou  for  clou,  ot-ta  for 
ote-toi,  clouie  for  croiite,  toujer  for  tuer,  baugrete  for  broiietie, 
liff  for  livre,  anoir  for  armoire,  la-lb  for  la-haiit.  Then 
rghouise  for  nourrice^  gouaselle  for  ftiade?noiselle,  acquelocqne 
for  enveloppe,  cacquette  for  casqtiette,  poeterre  for  pomme  de 
terre.  Corresponding  phenomena  are  recorded  concerning 
the  language  of  the  eldest  girl.  Pepita  used  to  say  lache  for 
vache,  loture  for  voiture,  chelal  for  chevaly  zame  for  dame^ 
zenetre  for  fenetre,  arislrocate  for  aristo crate,  pa  pi  bo  for  pas 
plus  beau,  les  sansan  for  les  enfa7its.  Another  little  girl 
whom  I  observed  at  about  the  same  age  used  to  say  les 
fanfajis;  but  the  harmonic  phenomenon  in  the  alteration 
was  identical. 

"  The  confusion  of  /  and  r  is  also  a  characteristic  pheno- 
menon of  infant  language;  children  often  mechanically 
change  or  replace  the  one  by  the  other ;  but  it  is  the  great 
difficulty  in  the  pronunciation  of  the  r  which  we  are  specially 


26o  THE   FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

concerned  with  here.  This  consonant,  pronounced  by  a 
vibration  of  the  tip  of  the  tongue  against  the  middle  of  the 
palate,  requires  a  certain  amount  of  muscular  exercise,  and 
is  not  mastered  till  much  later.  I  liave  noticed  that  chil- 
dren begin  by  sounding  it  in  the  middle  of  words,  then  at 
the  end,  and  finally  when  it  is  initial.  But  for  a  long  time 
there  will  be  confusion  between  these  two  letters,  and  some- 
times /  will  be  substituted  for  r,  sometimes  r  for  /.  This 
reminds  me  that  in  cert.'.^n  romanized  Latin  words  this 
tendency  to  confusion  of  r  and  /  has  produced  some  altera- 
tions which  have  been  set  down  to  an  etymological  law, 
such  as  chapitre  from  capiiulum  ;  pupitre  from  pulpitum  ; 
epitre  from  epistola  ;  apotre  from  apostolus ;  and,  iJice  versd^ 
peregrmus  has  become  pelerin.  It  appears,  also,  that  the 
ancient  Egyptians  did  not  very  clearly  distinguish  between 
these  two  consonants." 

M.  de  la  Calle  has  also  gone  into  the  interesting  question 
of  the  primitiveness  of  monosyllabism.  Contrary  to  the 
ideas  which  obtain  at  the  present  day  among  philologists,  he 
has  observed  in  his  three  children,  "  that  monosyllabism  is 
no  more  than  polysyllabism,  an  absolutely  constant  pheno- 
menon." 

The  words  which  children  retain  most  easily  are  those 
which  express  the  most  salient  qualities  of  things,  or  those 
parts  of  them  which  produce  the  dominant  impression. 
Thus,  a  little  girl  of  twenty  months,  when  I  took  off  my  hat 
and  said  to  her,  "  What  is  it?"  answered  "  bonnet''  (cap). 
This  is  her  generalized  name  for  every  kind  of  head-gear, 
masculine  or  feminine ;  it  is  an  object  which  has  often 
attracted  her  attention  on  her  mother's  head,  and  on  her 
own,  when  she  looks  at  herself  in  the  glass.  She  calls  the 
carafe^  ve  {verre),  while  a  bottle  of  wine  is  a  lit  {litre)  ;  the 
word  verre  designating  a  quality  which  has  struck  her  both 
in  the  tumblers  and  the  decanter,  while  the  bottle,  although 
also  glass,  appears  to  her  under  a  very  different  aspect. 
She  also  calls  a  little  medicine-bottle  which  hardly  holds  a 
decilitre^  lit.  Her  general  idea  of  glass  will  go  on  enlarging 
every  day,  while  that  of  litre  will  gradually  contract  as  she 
gains  fresh  experiences. 


ON   EXPRESSION    AND   LANGUAGE.  26 1 

A  little  child  of  two  and  a  half  calls  all  dogs  oua-oua^ 
except  his  grandfather's  dog  Cambo,  although  he  cannot  pro- 
nounce this  name  :  he  does  not  class  him  with  the  ordinary 
oua-ouas.  He  also  gives  this  name  to  all  his  wooden  toy- 
animals — the  dog,  goat,  wolf,  hyena,  and  lion.  But  when 
I  called  a  stuffed  lion  an  otta-oiia,  he  seemed  puzzled,  and 
looked  at  me  as  if  he  thought  I  was  mistaken.  Though 
he  can  quite  well  distinguish  donkeys  and  horses  and  oxen 
in  the  street,  in  his  wooden  menagerie  they  are  all  called 
tnoil  (ox).  The  other  day  I  had  set  him  up  on  my  table, 
with  a  pencil  in  his  hand  and  a  piece  of  paper  before  him. 
I  drew  for  him  roughly  the  outline  of  a  quadruped,  and  he 
instantly  said  mou,  thus  showing  that  it  is  the  dominant 
impressions  which  translate  themselves,  as  general  and 
individual  ideas,  into  the  words  most  easily  and  firmly  re- 
tained. Other  words  are  useless  to  the  child  ;  they  do  not 
interest  him,  and  signify  nothing  to  him.  If  he  is  forced  to 
learn  them  like  a  parrot,  he  forgets  them  more  easily  than 
those  which  represent  something  to  his  intelligence. 

These  facts  show  that  we  should  be  much  mistaken  in 
considering  rapidity  of  progress  in  speaking — setting  aside 
the  question  of  the  organs — as  a  sign  of  precocious  intelli- 
gence ;  the  contrary  indeed  seems  to  me  often  true.  I 
have  noticed  'remarkable  backwardness  in  respect  to  the 
exercise  of  speech,  in  several  children  of  both  sexes,  born 
of  cultured  parents,  who  expressed  themselves  with  great 
ease.  The  father  of  one  of  these  even  confided  to  me  his 
great  fear  lest  his  child  would  be  dumb  or  partly  dumb, 
because  at  the  age  of  thirteen  months  he  could  hardly 
stammer  out  two  or  three  words.  This  child  began  to 
speak  late,  and  he  took  his  time  even  then  in  learning ;  but 
when  three  years  old,  the  little  man  had  a  vocabulary  as 
rich  as  it  was  accurate,  and  expressed  himself  with  very 
great  facility  and  precision.  I  could  quote  many  similar 
examples  ;  and  it  seems  to  me,  therefore,  that  the  more 
intelligent  a  child  is,  the  less  he  uses  words,  the  more 
necessary  is  it  to  him  that  words  should  signify  something 
if  he  is  to  learn  them,  and  this  is  why  he  only  learns  words 
in  proportion  as  he  gains  ideas  about  objects.     With  chil- 


26i    THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

dren  of  little  intelligence,  but  who  are  gifted  with  flexible 
organs  and  with  a  memory  in  advance  of  their  judgment, 
words  precede  ideas,  and  often  take  their  place ;  they  are 
retained  as  sounds  and  associations  of  sounds,  rather  than 
as  representations  of  personal  ideas.  And  thus,  when  the 
children  come  to  understand  the  sense  of  these  words  so 
long  pronounced  for  their  sound,  they  find  that  their  minds 
are  filled  with  other  people's  ideas,  whereas  more  intelligent 
children,  slow  in  learning  to  speak,  have  got  a  large  store  of 
original  ideas,  which  have  come  to  them,  not  through  the 
channel  of  words,  but  by  means  of  direct  observation  and 
experience. 

Besides  the  habit  of  parrot-like  repetition,  which  I  have 
explained  as  being  caused  by  the  fact  that  certain  ideas 
and  sounds  take  possession  of  children,  we  may  also  notice 
in  the  most  intelligent  of  them  a  mania  for  jabbering  strings 
of  syllables  without  any  meaning,  jumbled  together  at 
hazard.  A  little  girl,  two  years  and  two  months  old,  went 
on  repeating  from  morning  to  night  for  a  fortnight,  ioro 
toro,  toro  toro,  rapapi^  rapapi,  rapapi,  a  rhythmic  monotone 
which  caused  her  great  delight.  Another  child,  nearly 
three  years  old,  has  a  stock  of  such  refrains,  which  he  either 
speaks  or  screams,  and  which  he  sometimes  produces  for 
fun  in  answer  to  any  one  speaking  to  him.  For  three 
months  he  went  on  repeating  these  three  syllables,  articu- 
lated in  a  sonorous  voice,  tabtlle,  tabille^  iabille.  No  one 
understood  the  meaning  of  them,  nor  did  they  seem  to  have 
any  meaning  for  him.  His  father  confided  to  me  his 
anxiety  as  to  the  child's  intelligence.  "  1  do  not  know  if  I 
am  mistaken,"  he  said,  "  but  I  am  less  satisfied  with  his 
intelligence  than  I  was.  Formerly  he  seemed  to  be  observ- 
ing and  thoughtful ;  but  perhaps  this  was  only  a  passing 
and  deceptive  ray  of  light.  I  now  find  him  heedless  and 
incapable  of  attention,  or  of  following  out  an  idea.  Some- 
times I  fear  that  his  brain  is  softening."  I  succeeded  in 
reassuring  the  father  by  giving  him  the  following  explana- 
tion of  his  child's  jabbering  propensity  :  The  feebleness  of 
his  intellectual  organs,  over-exerted  at  the  time  of  his  fiist 
attempts  at  speaking,  cause  him  to  seek  rest  and  amuse- 


ON    EXPRESSION   AND   LANGUAGE.  263 

ment  in  these  mechanical  babblings  without  any  sense, 
which  he  has  no  trouble  in  producing,  and  which  do  not 
excite  his  brain,  and  which,  moreover,  charm  and  please 
his  ear.  Savages,  in  like  manner,  will  go  on  for  several 
hours  at  a  time  making  a  monotonous  melopoeia,  whose 
easy  rhythm  distracts  their  minds  from  care,  and  allows 
their  imagination  to  disport  itself  agreeably.  It  is,  no 
doubt,  for  a  similar  reason,  that  the  dreamy  and  idle 
peasants  in  the  South  of  Europe,  while  watching  their 
flocks  or  working  in  their  fields,  will  repeat  either  a  song, 
or  a  couplet,  or  a  refrain,  a  hundred  times  in  the  same 
afternoon.  This  is  habitual,  agreeable,  and  easy  to  them ; 
a  triple  reason  why  they  delight  in  the  practice.  There  is 
nothing  in  this  meaningless  reiteration  to  cause  anxiety 
with  regard  to  children,  when  it  does  not  fill  up  all  their 
time.  It  merely  distracts  them  and  relieves  the  fatigue  of 
their  brain. 

It  is  a  universal  fact  that  children  always  take  hold  of 
the  superficial  qualities  of  things  rather  than  their  sub- 
stance, of  the  simple  rather  than  the  complex^  of  what  is 
easy  before  what  is  more  difficult.  Thus  we  find  them 
more  apt  at  imitating  the  emotional  tone,  the  emphasis,  and 
the  most  sonorous  syllables  of  words,  than  the  entire  words. 
I  have  already  said,  their  attention  and  powers  of  enunci- 
ation are  chiefly  directed  to  accentuated  syllables  and 
terminations.  "  If  a  child  is  not  able  to  reproduce  a 
phrase  it  has  just  heard,  it  will  at  any  rate  reproduce  the 
emphasis,  which  is,  as  it  were,  its  music.  If  we  try  to  teach 
a  child  the  habit  of  expressing  thanks  for  anything  he 
receives,  and  if  he  cannot  repeat  the  phrase  of  thanks  that 
is  taught  him,  he  sings  it  without  words,  or  at  any  rate 
without  the  consonants,  and  generally  on  a  single  vowel."  ^ 

Philologists  who  have  studied  children,  mention  a  num- 
ber of  similar  facts,  all  of  which  they  refer  to  the  general 
laws  which  govern  the  formation  of  languages.  We  would 
specially  refer  our  readers  to  two  philologists,  already  cited, 


^  E.  Egger,  op.  cit. 


264   THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

M.  Egger  and  M.  de  La  Calle,  in  whose  works  they  will 
find  an  abundant  collection  of  valuable  observations  on  the 
progressive  evolution  of  infant  logic  and  dialect,  showing 
the  gradual  extension  and  generalization  of  the  meaning  of 
the  words  they  have  learnt ;  their  first  attempts  in  the  art  of 
forming  phrases  without  the  use  of  the  verb  to  be^  by  the 
simple  juxtaposition  of  a  noun,  a  pronoun,  or  an  attribute  ; 
the  inflexible  logic  of  analogy,  which  makes  them  confuse  in 
their  mind  the  thing,  the  person,  and  the  action,  so  that 
they  soon  begin  to  designate  them  by  uniform  and  general 
appellations  ;  the  incoherence  and  indefiniteness  of  their 
notions  of  time  and  mood,  of  number  and  of  person,  which 
makes  them  first  use  all  verbs  in  the  infinitive,  and  after- 
wards, by  dint  of  analogy,  put  them  in  the  times  and 
persons  used  by  those  who  are  speaking  to  them,  i,e.  taking 
the  second  person  for  the  first,  and  the  first  for  the  second ; 
and  so  forth.  On  all  these  cases  of  progressive  and  parallel 
development,  often  contradictory  in  appearance,  the  writers 
above  mentioned  have  contributed  valuable  information. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   .ESTHETIC    SENSE    IN    LITTLE    CHILDREN. 

I. 

THE   MUSICAL   SENSE. 

As  soon  as  a  child  begins  to  distinguish  sounds  clearly,  we 
notice  that  some  appear  to  please  and  others  to  displease 
him  ;  this  may  arise  either  from  the  fact  that  particular  tones 
correspond  to  certain  conformations  in  the  child's  acoustic 
apparatus,  or,  by  virtue  of  hereditary  predisposition,  to  certain 
innate  conditions  of  his  personality.  We  have  also  said 
that  children  very  easily  accommodate  themselves  to  sounds 
which  are  very  disagreeable  to  adults,  provided  they  possess 
some  sort  of  rhythm,  however  rude.  In  short,  we  have 
traced  in  young  children  the  awakening  of  a  kind  of  musical 
sentiment,  manifested  either  by  their  rhythmic  movements 
and  joyous  expression  of  face  when  any  one  sings  or  plays 
on  the  piano,  or  by  the  evident  enjoyment  with  which  they 
imitate  the  cry  of  an  animal  or  the  song  of  a  person.  We 
must  now  endeavour  to  define  these  indications  more  pre- 
cisely, and  to  show  the  genesis  and  the  nature  of  the  musical 
sense  in  young  children. 

The  primary  element  of  musical  impressions  lies  in  the 
emotional  character  of  the  sounds.  The  vibrations  of  matter 
transmit  themselves  to  the  ear  under  the  form  of  sounds. 
In  these  sounds  then  the  ear  seizes  certain  vibrations  of  the 
bodies  producing  them,  something,  i.e.^  of  their  life,  so  to 
speak.  It  is,  first  and  foremost,  this  expressive  power  of  the 
inner  nature  of  things  which  awakens  sympathetic  sentiments 
in  the  hearer  ;  and  with  it  are  combined  the  three  essential 
characteristics  of  sound — pitch,   intensity,   and   tone,    and 

the  quality  resulting  from  the  duration  of  the  note,  rhythm, 

26s 


266   THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

measure,  and  movement.  In  proportion  as  the  pitch  is 
high,  a  note  or  sound  becomes  more  distinct,  more  striking, 
and,  within  certain  limits,  more  agreeable.  The  medium 
intensity  between  a  feeble  sound  which  is  hardly  perceptible 
to  the  auditory  nerves,  and  a  violent  one  which  shocks  them, 
is  also  productive  of  agreeable  sensations  for  the  ear.  The 
subtle  relations  of  tone  and  feehng  afford  one  of  the  most 
powerful  means  of  expression.  With  regard  to  rhythm, 
which  is  both  a  soothing  and  a  stirring  influence,  though  it 
strikes  the  nerves  as  a  shock,  its  periodicity  and  order  appeal 
to  the  intelligence. 

Let  us  examine  the  first  manifestations  of  musical  senti- 
ment in  children  on  the  lines  of  these  aesthetic  principles. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  the  pleasure  they  experience  in 
listening  to  singing  or  pianoforte  playing  springs  from  all 
the  causes  we  have  enumerated  above ;  the  human  voice 
pleases  in  itself,  and  so  in  a  lesser  degree  does  the  sound  of 
an  instrument,  because  both  convey  a  vague  expression  of 
existence.  But  this  expressive  character  of  music  is  very 
confusedly  apprehended  by  infants  or  animals.  I  doubt 
even  whether,  before  the  age  of  six  weeks,  a  child  distin- 
guishes at  all  clearly  the  tones  of  caressing,  of  pity,  or  of 
affection,  from  those  of  calling,  threatening,  command,  or 
anger ;  he  soon  arrives  at  understanding  them,  thanks  to 
the  inherited  powers  of  adaptation  in  which  his  organization 
is  so  rich ;  but  the  differences  he  feels  in  them  at  first  are 
physical  rather  than  moral.  It  is  necessary  that  associations 
of  id^as  of  pleasure  and  well-being,  of  pain  and  uneasiness 
shoujd  intervene  in  the  development  of  these  functions, 
latent  in  the  organization.  By  the  time  a  child  is  three 
months  old  a  slight  advance  has  already  been  made  in  this 
direction.  The  child  begins  to  distinguish  with  clearness 
and  with  pleasure  certain  sounds  which  to  him  are  express- 
ive j  but  he  is  quite  indifferent  to  others,  whether  clear, 
harsh,  or  grave,  which  on  an  adult  would  produce  either 
pleasant  or  painful  impressions.  The  tones  of  authority  and 
anger  in  his  nurse's  voice  (and  still  more  in  his  father)  are 
clearly  distinguished  by  the  child  from  those  of  coaxing  or 
fun.     If  light,  sharp  sounds  enliven  him,  it  is  more  on  ac- 


THE   MUSICAL  SENSE.  267 

count  of  their  pitch  than  their  timbre.  But  sounds  of  all 
sorts,  sharp  or  flat,  intense  or  feeble,  impressive  or  not,  give 
him  pleasure,  provided  they  are  accompanied  by  rhythm. 

Of  these  different  musical  elements  those  which  will  have 
made  most  way  by  the  age  of  six  months,  are  those  which 
appeal  in  some  sort  to  physical  sensibility.  I  mean  to  say, 
that  sounds  which  transmit  to  our  nervous  system  the  very 
vibrations  of  the  matter  itself  will  be  more  differentiated  and 
more  keenly  felt  by  the  ear.  It  is  the  same  with  the  sonor- 
ous vibrations  which  not  only  affect  the  tympanum  but  which 
shake  the  wl.ole  body  more  or  less  strongly.^  Sweet  and 
clear  sounds,  or  harsh,  jingling  ones,  always  please  children 
ill  themselves  ;  but  they  please  them  much  more  when  they 
are  rhythmic  or  reiterated.  A  child  placed  close  to  a  grand 
organ  will  cry  and  writhe  under  the  sonorous  vibrations 
which  shake  its  whole  body  ;  the  noise  of  a  drum  very  near 
has  often  the  same  effect.  But  heard  a  litde  way  off,  the 
same  sound,  softened  by  distance,  will  please  him  immensely. 
Thus  it  is  the  striking  forms  of  emotional  music  rather  than 
its  expression,  the  purely  physical  percussions  and  sensations 
of  sound,  and  above  all  the  physical  excilement  produ<:ed 
by  the  mechanical  excitation  of  sound,  that  a  child  of  six 
months  feels  the  most  keenly. 

At  this  early  period  it  would  be  premature  to  look  for 
genuine  musical  intentions  in  the  first  monotonous  babblings 
which  children  seem  to  make  with  no  other  motive  than 
delight  in  the  exercise  of  their  little  voices.  The  utmost 
we  can  admit  is,  that  lively  airs  and  harmonious  sounds 
produce  more  marked  impressions  on  them  than  do  grave, 
sweet,  and  even  melodious  sounds ;  and  that  their  irregularly 
rhythmic  utterances,  vaguely  and  feebly  expressed,  are  per- 
haps an  attempt  to  reproduce  those  sounds  which  please 
them.  There  is  no  doubt  that  in  addition  to  the  immediate 
pleasure  of  exercising  the  vocal  organs,  there  comes  in  a 
vague  discernment  of  the  variety  of  sounds,  a  subtle  sense 
of  pleasure  in  this  variety,  and  the  still  more  subtle  pleasure 

1  G.  Gueroult,  Dn  Rdle  du  Mouvement  dans  les  £,mo(ions  Esthetiques. 
Revue  Philosophique^  J  win,  iCSi. 


268   THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

of  attempting  to  imitate   sounds— his   nurse's  voice  when 
singing,  or  the  notes  of  an  instrument. 

Both  language  and  music  are  in  their  origin  but  one  and 
the  same  thing ;  they  are  first  and  foremost  the  expression 
of  sentiments  Httle  or  not  at  all  defined.  Thus  children 
during  the  first  few  months  practise  the  two  simultaneously, 
and  more  for  pleasure  than  to  express  any  wants.  Adults, 
however,  soon  teach  them  the  separate  use  of  these  two  arts 
which  in  primitive  man  also  were  fused  in  one,  but  which 
have  been  brought  singly  to  perfection  by  the  slow  elabora- 
tion of  ages.  First,  between  the  ages  of  one  and  three, 
children  learn  a  very  great  number  of  oral  signs  and  com- 
binations of  signs  representing  concrete  ideas.  But  during 
the  same  period  they  will  scarcely  learn  to  distinguish  the 
abstract  scale  of  sounds  better  than  that  of  colours.  The 
child's  vocal  music  is  of  a  diff'erent  kind,  and  cannot  ac- 
commodate itself  to  ours.  Not  that  his  ear  does  not 
seize  with  tolerable  clearness  the  more  delicate  shades  of 
sound,  provided  people  sing  to  him  in  tune ;  but  his  ear 
at  this  age  is  more  natural  than  musical — it  distinguishes 
musical  sounds  more  from  their  accent  and  rhythm  than 
their  expression.  A  child  must  first  have  learnt  by  a  long 
apprenticeship  of  hearing  and  sight  to  distinguish  the 
nature  and  origin  of  any  sounds  whatever,  to  recognise  the 
voices  of  different  people,  to  imitate  their  speech  and  their 
songs,  or  to  mimic  the  cries  of  animals  or  the  most  striking 
sounds  produced  by  objects,  before  notes  sung  by  the  human 
voice  will  have  any  marked  expression  for  him.  And 
further :  .the  development  of  the  musical  ear  is  quite  as  much 
aided  by  the  personal  exercise  of  the  voice  as  by  hearing 
the  songs  of  other  people.  Now,  the  larynx  of  a  child,  though 
it  contains  at  birth  all  the  same  parts  as  it  does  in  an  adult, 
is  only  a  rough  sketch  of  what  it  will  be.  During  the  first 
months  the  cartilage  is  in  an  essentially  fibrous  state.  It  is 
not  until  after  the  second  year  that  the  thyroid  cartilage 
assumes  more  marked  forms,  and  that  the  arytenoids  begin 
to  take  shape.  At  the  age  of  five  or  six  years  the  posterior  ex- 
tremities of  the  thyroid  and  other  parts  acquire  the  charac- 
ter of  true  cartilage.     It  is  natural  that  the  development  of 


THE   MUSICAL   SENSE.  269 

the  voice  should  follow  that  of  the  organs.  As  the  fibres 
harden  by  slow  degrees,  the  shrill  screams  and  wailings  of 
early  days  give  place  to  more  sonorous  sounds  ;  and  by  the 
development  of  the  muscles  the  vocal  pipe  is  placed  in 
favourable  conditions  for  modifying  the  discordant  sounds 
of  the  reed.  .  .  .  Towards  the  first  year  the  voice  begins 
to  acquire  a  more  decidedly  sonorous  quality  ;  speech  be- 
comes an  incessant  medium  of  gymnastics  for  the  voice,  and 
contributes  enormously  to  its  development.^ 

From  one  to  three  years  of  age  the  development  of  the 
voice  appears  to  coincide  with  that  of  the  brain,  rather  than 
of  the  general  organization.  With  regard  to  its  sonorous 
quality,  it  is  pretty  much  at  a  standstill ;  and  it  remains  so 
till  the  age  of  five  or  six.  It  is  from  the  age  of  four  or  five 
that  the  ear  begins  really  to  form,  and  learns  most  easily  to 
distinguish  sounds  ;2  and  its  progress  has  been  greatly  aided 
by  the  gradual  development  and  constant  exercise  of  the 
voice.  A  child  of  a  year  old  may  listen  with  profit  to 
music  of  a  simple  kind,  moderately  expressive  and,  above 
all,  lively  ;  it  will  conduce  to  form  his  musical  ear.  But  his 
real  musical  education,  that  which  will  produce  the  most 
manifest  fruits,  scarcely  ever  begins  before  the  age  of  five  or 
six ;  and  even  then,  his  best  model  for  vocal  music  will  not 
be  a  man,  whose  voice  is  an  octave  lower  than  his,  but  the 
sweet  voice  of  his  mother  or  nurse,  or  of  an  older  child 
whose  voice  is  already  formed.  As  for  instrumental  music, 
we  know  what  it  is,  what  it  may  be,  and  also  what  it  should 
not  be  at  this  age  of  animal  virtiiosiie.  We  have  already 
seen,  according  to  Houzeau,  that  the  first  rudiments  of 
instrumental  music  are  not  unknown  to  certain  animals  ;  and 
that  their  first  attempts  in  this  Une  are  of  the  nature  of 
drum  performances,  that  is  to  say,  they  consist  in  striking 
sonorous  objects  with  sticks.  The  drum,  according  to 
Houzeau,  is  the  universal  instrument,  the  symbol  of  musical 
art  in  the  savage,  and,  perhaps  we  may  also  add,  in  the 
quadrumana  also.      To  this  instrument  of  barbarous  per- 

^  De  la  Calle,  op.  cit.,  p.  141. 

2  Dupaigne,  Conferences  Pedagogiques^  1878. 


270   THE  FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

cussion,  the  offspring  of  the  civilized  bimana  adds  the 
trumpet,  symbol  of  a  more  refined  savageness.  The  use 
of  the  first  of  these  instruments  has  been  suppressed  in 
France  for  adults^  let  us  hope  that  it  will  not  be  long  before 
children  also  are  forbidden  its  use.  As  to  the  suppression 
of  the  trumpet,  this  last  vestige  of  animal  combativeness, 
it  will  come  in  its  turn,  though  the  time  does  not  yet  seem 
near  at  hand. 


II. 

THE  SENSE  OF  MATERIAL  BEAUTY. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  month  or  towards  the  middle  of 
the  second,  the  fixity  of  expresson,  the  sustained  attention, 
the  smile,  the  automatic  gestures  of  the  head,  arms,  and 
legs,  which  we  notice  in  children  when  they  see  before 
them  brightly  coloured  or  luminous  objects,  or  objects 
moved  briskly  about,  do  not  appear  to  signify  anything 
more  than  the  pleasure  resulting  from  very  exciting  sensa- 
tions. At  this  period  also  the  sight  of  a  candle,  or  anything 
of  pronounced  colour,  will  cause  starts  and  tremblings  and 
babblings,  which  are  the  child's  ordinary  expression  of  joy, 
admiration,  or  desire.  For  some  time  already  the  sight  of 
his  feeding-bottle,  his  nurse's  breast,  his  parents  and  friends, 
will  have  evoked  from  the  child  analogous  cries,  gestures, 
and  attitudes.  During  the  first  month,  therefore,  we  may 
assume  that  the  child  confuses  the  beautiful  with  what  he 
likes.  The  child  is  at  the  stage  of  the  first  purely  animal 
emotions,  the  accumulation  of  which  has  produced  the 
hereditary  instinct  called  aesthetic.  We  are  already  able 
to  affirm  that  the  intensity  of  these  visual  pleasures  is  in 
relation  to  the  individual  impressionabihty,  and  we  can 
perhaps  also  vaguely  foresee  the  degree  of  the  future 
development  of  this  force.  Psychologists,  however,  must 
observe  extreme  caution  and  reserve  in  their  diagnosis,  for 
these  first  indications  have  only  a  very  limited  object ;  they 
only  bring  into  evidence  the  feeblest  of  the  elements  of 
which    the  aesthetic   sense   will   eventually  be   composed; 


THE  SENSE  OF   MATERIAL   BEAUTY.  2/1 

besides  which,  inherited  tendencies,  especially  when  pre- 
cociously displayed,  are  apt  to  become  very  mediocre  in 
quality. 

Let  us  study  a  child  at  the  age  of  ten  months.  A  great 
number  of  visual  perceptions  have  become  associated  in  his 
brain  with  the  admiration,  joy,  sympathy,  and  desire  which 
the  sight  of  anything  good  or  pleasant  awakens  in  him ; 
nevertheless,  in  spite  of  some  progress  which  he  has  made 
in  the  habits  of  imagining,  comparing,  abstracting,  and 
generalizing,  it  seems  that  the  legacy  of  the  ideal  inherited 
from  his  parents  has  not  yet  become  amplified.  The 
aesthetic  pleasure  of  admiration  and  purely  sensual  pleasures 
seem  still  blended  together.  I  give  a  cake  to  a  child  of 
nine  months  ;  he  reddens  with  emotion,  and  his  whole 
being  is  agitated ;  he  stretches  out  his  hands  eagerly,  and 
carries  the  cake  to  his  mouth  with  the  most  unconcealed 
delight.  I  then  present  him  with  a  plaything — his  sister's 
doll ;  his  delight  and  admiration  are  shown  at  first  by  the 
same  signs  as  before ;  but  very  soon  discovering  that  this 
charming  object  is  only  good  to  be  looked  at  and  handled, 
he  confines  himself  to  enjoying  it  with  the  two  senses  of 
sight  and  touch,  and  presently  even  invites  me  to  share 
his  pleasure.  Here  we  have  a  sentiment  less  egoistical — 
or  rather  an  egoism  which  takes  him  out  of  himself — and 
which  the  very  nature  of  the  object  has  led  the  child  to 
experience.  We  can  see  in  this  a  progress,  though  very 
slight,  of  the  aesthetic  sense. 

I  see  a  child  of  ten  months  in  a  high  state  of  delight  just 
after  his  nurse  has  put  him  on  his  sn\art  new  frock  and 
shoes.  But  I  also  observed  that  in  putting  them  on  she 
said,  "  Pretty,  pretty,"  a  word  which  he  applies  in  his  mind 
to  everything  that  is  good  or  pleasant ;  I  also  reflect  that 
every  change  relating  to  his  person  makes  him  happy, 
especially  if  the  people  about  him  appear  to  share  his  joy. 
But  then  I  remember  also  that  he  seems  always  very  happy 
in  his  everyday  frock  and  shoes,  and  I  can  no  longer 
attribute  this  momentary  excitement  to  a  sentiment, — except 
perhaps  a  very  obscure  one, — of  the  beauty  of  his  clothes. 
The  colour  of  the  stuff  no  doubt  pleases,  as  that  of  a  flower 


2/2   THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS  OF   CHILDHOOD. 

or  piece  of  coloured  paper  would ;  the  rustling  affects  his 
tympanum  pleasantly;  the  click-clack  of  the  little  new 
shoes  amuses  him,  as  any  new  sound  would;  but  this  is 
probably  all. 

Another  child  of  ten  months  and  his  cousin  of  thirteen 
months  can  distinguish  easily  amongst  five  or  six  other 
kinds  of  food  the  cake  or  dainty  they  prefer  ;  and  if  they 
seize  hold  of  them  it  is  with  full  consciousness  of  what  they 
are  doing.  But  if  I  present  to  them  at  the  same  time 
several  toys  and  dolls  of  unequal  prettiness,  they  generally 
make  a  grab  at  hap-hazard  and  without  choice.  If  they  do 
make  a  choice,  it  is  anything  but  an  aesthetic  one ;  it  is  size, 
smartness,  and  novelty  which  attracts  and  fascinates  them. 

With  regard  to  animal  beauty,  and  the  highest  kind 
especially,  that  of  the  human  form,  there  is  a  sympathy  of 
origin  and  similarity,  combined  with  the  influence  of  familiar 
experiences,  which  predisposes  children  to  take  lively  de- 
light in  it.     But  there  is  little  more  than  this. 

I  have  often  studied  little  children  in  the  presence  of 
animals  at  the  Jardin  des  Plantes  in  Paris,  or  the  Zoological 
Gardens  of  other  great  towns,  and  it  is  evident  to  me  that 
they  take  great  notice  of  them  and  delight  in  looking  at 
them — big  ones  and  little  ones,  pretty  or  ugly,  and  especi- 
ally those  which  resemble  animals  they  are  already  ac- 
quainted with.  But  I  have  examined  the  expression  of 
their  eyes  and  faces,  their  gestures  and  exclamations,  to 
learn  if  they  made  any  distinction,  in  virtue  of  hereditary 
instinct,  between  the  different  representatives  of  zoological 
species,  and  I  confess  that,  to  my  great  astonishment,  I 
could  discover  nothing  of  the  kind.  They  showed  quite 
as  much  delight  at  the  tricks  of  the  monkeys  as  at  the 
gambols  of  the  bears,  or  the  grave  and  ponderous  attitudes 
of  the  elephant ;  they  admired  with  equal  enthusiasm  the 
brilliant  cockatoos,  the  hideous  vultures,  the  grotesque 
ostrich,  and  the  graceful  ichneumon ;  and  would  gaze  with 
pleasure  quite  unmixed  with  horror  at  the  awful  boa-con- 
strictor and  the  scaly  lizards.  The  child  has  not  yet  got 
beyond  isolated  perceptions,  and  is  incapable  of  concep- 
tions of  wholes  or  masses ;  and  that  is  why  his  ideas  of  the 


tHE   SENSE  OF   MATERIAL  BEAUTY.  2/3 

beautiful  and  his  correlative  ideas  of  ugliness  are  so  incom- 
plete, variable,  and  fleeting. 

The  idea  of  proportion  and  suitability,  which  is  a  wholly 
intellectual  perception,  takes  longer  to  form  itself  than  the 
discernment  of  expression,  which  is  almost  entirely  sensory. 
The  attitude  of  these  little  children  in  the  presence  of 
people  whose  faces  are  unknown  to  them,  seems  to  indicate 
this.  They  are  attracted  at  first  sight  by  certain  faces, 
which  also  please  adults  ;  and  other  faces  which  do  not 
please  us  seem  also  to  frighten  and  repel  them.  But  the 
readiness  with  which  they  become  reconciled  to  the  latter, 
provided  they  discover  in  them  signs  of  benevolence,  and 
the  equal  readiness  with  which  they  withdraw  their  favour 
from  the  others  if  they  only  find  coldness  in  them,  authorize 
us  in  supposing  that  if  hereditary  influences  and,  up  to  a 
certain  point,  personal  experience,  dispose  the  child  to  feel 
the  charm  of  a  beautiful  face,  of  a  harmonious  arrangement 
of  form  and  colour,  a  stronger  tendency  makes  them  capable 
of  understanding  and  feeling  the  true  expression  of  senti- 
ments which  are  not  very  complex.  Even  with  adults 
expression  ranks  before  beauty  of  proportion.  The  best 
proportioned  face,  if  wanting  in  expression,  says  nothing  to 
us,  whereas  the  most  irregular  features — even  the  most 
repelhng — if  lighted  up  with  expression,  interest  and  please. 
It  is  not  surprising  then  that  to  children  the  intellectual 
elements  of  the  beautiful  should-  be  subordinated  to  the 
sensory  ones,  or  even  entirely  absent. 

We  have  now  come  to  a  fresh  stage  in  the  slow  evolution 
of  the  aesthetic  sense.  The  child  is  eighteen  months  old ; 
his  mind  is  stored  with  a  considerable  number  of  percep- 
tions more  or  less  well  differentiated  and  generalized  ;  he 
has  made,  and  has  heard  made,  quantities  of  judgments 
implying  a  conception  of  the  beautiful ;  and  this  term,  often 
used  by  him  or  in  his  hearing,  may  have  assumed  the  form 
of  an  elementary  abstraction.  But  how  undetermined  still 
and  fluctuating  is  this  idea  in  his  mind  !  To  him  the 
beautiful  still  means  only  what  is  pretty^  but  it  is  also  what 
is  nice,  and  in  both  cases  it  is  the  concrete  expression  of 
the  known.      All   his  aesthetic  judgments  refer  always   to 

T 


274   THE  FIRST  THREE  YEARS   OF    CHILDHOOD. 

himself;  pretty  applies  to  everything  that  is  part  of  himself, 
that  belongs  to  him,  that  is  for  him  or  near  him  ;  his  person, 
his  clothes,  his  toys,  his  parents,  his  friends,  his  animals, 
flowers,  and  trees.  Sometimes,  however,  all  these  things 
cease  to  be  pretty — himself,  when  he  gets  angry,  or  has 
been  disobedient,  or  given  pain  to  some  one ;  his  toys  when 
he  is  tired  of  them  or  has  broken  them  or  made  them  dirty ; 
then  nothing  is  pretty  or  good.  Thus  we  see  that  the 
dominant  elements  in  the  infant's  sense  of  beauty  are  the 
primary  judgments  and  sentiments,  or  those  immediately 
derived  from  them,  which  make  up  his  young  personaUty. 

A  very  few  examples  will  show  how  very  Umited  is  that 
part  of  his  ideality  which  may  be  called  rational,  and  quasi- 
universal.  A  gaudy  picture-book  will  drive  children  wild 
with  delight,  even  at  the  age  of  three,  while  the  paintings 
of  a  master  do  not  appeal  to  them  at  all.  Beautiful 
statuary  leaves  them  indifferent ;  but  they  will  watch  with 
the  greatest  interest  the  tricks  and  antics  of  a  dog,  the 
flight  of  a  bird,  a  boat  gliding  along.  A  little  girl  twenty 
months  old,  who  had  been  accustomed  to  looking  at  pictures 
at  home,  and  took  pleasure  in  recognising  the  objects  they 
represented,  escaped  from  her  father  when  he  tried  to  make 
her  look  at  the  animals  and  people  in  the  pictures  of  the 
Louvre.  Her  chief  delight  here  in  public  was  to  run  about, 
laughing  and  calHng  to  me  in  a  little  shrill  voice,  and 
getting  in  the  way  of  the  visitors.  Another  child,  three 
years  old,  after  having  looked  at  an  Italian  picture  with 
very  bright  colouring,  partly  from  imitation  and  partly  from 
obedience,  expressed  his  admiration  thus  :  "  It's  very  pretty, 
papa  !  There's  lots  of  gold,  lots  of  red,  and  lots  of  blue ; 
and  then,  down  there,  there  is  a  papa  and  a  mamma  ;  there 
is  no  baby ;  and  there  is  a  papa  tree  and  a  mamma  duck." 

Children  appreciate  r^iral  scenery  as  little  as  they  do 
pictorial  or  sculpturesque  beauty.  In  Touraine,  a  beautiful 
and  open  country  greets  the  eye  at  every  turn.  A  young 
child  will  pass  some  time  in  the  midst  of  its  beauties,  and  will 
perceive  only  himself  or  his  parents.  The  latter  adroitly 
lead  the  cnversation  to  the  subject  of  the  lovely  country; 
the  child  mechaniclly  repeats   some  fragments  of  their  dis- 


THE  SENSE  OF   MATERIAL   BEAUTY.  275 

course.  Then  the  parents,  seated  on  some  rising  ground, 
invite  the  child  to  look  at  what  they  were  admiring.  His 
reply  is  very  brief:  "Oh!  yes,  it  is  very  beautiful,  very 
beautiful,  much  more  lovely  than  at  home,  and  than  where 
grandmamma  lives  too."  Before  a  thundering  cascade, 
glowing  with  rainbow  tints,  a  child  of  the  same  age  cried 
out :  "  Say,  mamma,  why  is  the  cascade  of  the  mill-stream 
at  Tarbes  not  bigger  than  this  ?  "  Another  child,  about  three 
years  of  age,  imitating  her  mother's  example,  always  admired 
the  beautiful  Pic  de  Ger,  which  towers  in  the  distance  far 
above  the  mountains  surrounding  Eaux-Bonnes.  This 
mountain,  situated  nearly  to  the  south  of  the  town,  changes 
its  aspect  according  to  the  time  of  day.  The  child  had 
heard  this  spoken  of,  and  repeated  the  words  in  his  own 
fashion  :  "  The  mountain  is  very  large !  This  morning  it 
was  quite  white,  yesterday  it  was  quite  black,  and  the  other 
yesterday  it  was  all  rose-colour.  Oh  !  the  lovely  mountain. 
It  is  a  great  deal  bigger  than  our  house,  perhaps  it  is  four 
times  as  big."  Of  a  beautiful  animal,  this  same  child  said 
it  was  of  such  and  such  a  colour,  and  then,  very  large  or 
very  good,  not  naughty  or  bad  at  all :  of  a  very  fine  poplar, 
that  it  was  very  tall  or  very  pretty,  but  not  so  large  as  the 
fig-tree,  the  big  fig-tree  in  grandma's  garden. 

Children  begin  by  feeling  pleasure  and  admiration  for 
isolated  objects,  and  so  much  the  more  as  they  appear  to 
them  to  be  good  or  pleasant.  The  measure  of  their  appro- 
bation does  not  go  beyond  their  familiar  experiences.  Of 
masses  they  only  perceive  the  general  bulk  ;  of  harmonies  in 
nature  or  in  art,  only  the  colours  and  the  most  salient  points. 
The  ideality  transmitted  through  ancestors,  develops 
according  to  the  laws  of  general  evolution,  adapting  itself 
gradually  to  more  distant  objects,  analysing  and  combining 
them  more  and  more.  The  more  persons  and  objects 
recall  real  connections  and  distinct  associations  of  agreeable 
and  intense  sensations,  the  more  we  may  say  that  the  sense 
of  the  intellectual  element  of  the  beautiful,  or  ideaUty,  has 
progressed. 


2/6   THE  FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 


HI. 

THE   CONSTRUCTIVE    INSTINCT. 

"Creative  imagination,"  under  the  form  of  constructive 
or  destructive  mania,  "shows  itself  at  a  very  tender  age," 
says  Father  Girard  ;  "  for  if  the  little  child  likes  to  give  proof 
of  his  strength  by  destroying,  he  also  delights  in  producing, 
after  his  own  fashion,  things  new  and  beautiful.  See  how 
he  ranges  his  little  soldiers,  his  toy  horses  and  sheep,  etc. ; 
how  he  rejoices  in  new  combinations  !  And  he  calls  to  his 
mother,  that  she  too  may  share  in  his  pleasure."  ^  The 
instinct  of  imitation,  so  active  in  all  young  animals,  con- 
duces to  the  rapid  development  of  this  hereditary  faculty. 
Tiedemann  points  out  to  us  in  his  child,  thirteen  months 
old,  a  rare  aptitude  for  combining  the  ideas  he  had  acquired 
and  of  applying  them  to  actual  perceptions,  with  the  evident 
intention  of  representing  the  first  by  the  second. 

On  the  29th  of  October  the  child  got  hold  of  some  cab- 
bage stalks  and  amused  himself  with  making  them  represent 
different  persons  visiting  each  other.  The  philosopher 
rightly  sees  in  this  the  germ  of  the  poetic  genius,  which  he 
says,  "  seems  to  consist  in  transferring  known  images  to 
strangers."  But  he  forgets  to  tell  us  how  far  this  perform- 
ance was  genuinely  spontaneous,  and  whether  the  child 
had  ever  seen  this  done  before,  or  whether  it  was  his  original 
idea  for  representing  scenes  which  he  remembered.  It  is 
true,  however,  that  even  if  the  action  did  proceed  from 
mechanical  imitation,  as  consciousness  would  soon  intervene, 
it  would  assume  a  certain  personal  character.  Possibly 
also  a  future  savant  was  exceptionally  gifted  with  precocious 
talents. 

However  this  may  be,  this  imaginative  faculty  shows 
itself,  with  greater  or  less  force,  in  all  children  from  the  age 
of  eight  or  ten  months.  A  child  of  nine  months,  seated  on 
the  floor  in  the  middle  of  a  room,  seemed  like  a  creating 
and  despotic  diety  in  the  midst  of  his  playthings,  and  any- 

*  De  r  Ens  eigne  ment  Regulier  de  la  Langue  Maternelie,  liv.  iii.,  p.  88. 


THE  CONSTRUCTIVE   INSTINCT.  2/7 

thing  else  that  was  given  him  or  that  he  could  get  hold  of 
by  crawling  along.  Trumpets,  drums,  balls,  paper,  books, 
cakes,  fruit,  were  piled  up  together,  ranged  side  by  side, 
separated,  put  back  higgledy-piggledy,  pushed  away,  fetched 
back  again,  hugged  up,  kissed,  gnawed,  etc.,  etc.,  and  all 
this  with  an  accompaniment  of  shouts,  gestures  of  admira- 
tion, and  bursts  of  joy,  which  showed  his  imperative  need 
of  exercising  his  physical  powers,  of  satisfying  an  ever-new 
curiosity,  and  of  imitating;  and  also  his  intellectual  and 
moral  necessity  of  realising  an  ideal  corresponding  to  his 
faculties,  "  of  producing,  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  something 
new  and  pretty."  Thus  the  infant-man  constructs  and 
destroys  in  play,  but  with  a  seriousness  and  purpose  which 
reminds  one  of  Sallust's  patricians,  who  unceasingly  con- 
structed in  order  to  demolish,  and  demolished  in  order  to 
construct. 

The  aesthetic  faculty  may  even  at  this  early  age  receive 
an  appropriate  kind  of  culture,  through  the  development  of 
the  constructive  instinct.  Give  a  child  of  twenty  months  or 
two  years  a  spade  and  a  little  pail,  set  him  down  on  a  sandy 
beach,  and  you  will  have  reason  to  admire  his  indefatigable 
and  ever-varying  efforts  at  building  and  demolishing  and 
rebuilding.  His  imagination  outstrips  ours,  in  that  it  does 
not  know  how  to,  or  cannot  limit  itself.  I  saw  the  other 
day  in  one  of  the  squares  which  I  frequently  visit,  a  little 
girl  seated  by  her  nurse's  side,  who,  during  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  never  ceased  filling  her  little  pail  and  turning  out 
moulds  of  sand.  After  she  had  turned  the  pail  over,  before 
lifting  it  up,  she  always  patted  it  several  times  with  her 
spade ;  this,  the  nurse  told  me,  was  to  make  the  mould 
even.  But  she  did  not  always  succeed  in  producing  a 
perfect  shape,  and  then  she  would  turn  to  her  nurse  and 
hold  out  the  spade  and  pail  to  her,  as  if  inviting  her  to  share 
her  labours.  To  let  children  work  at  what  they  can  do  and 
what  pleases  them,  seems  to  me  an  excellent  plan. 

Whilst  encouraging,  however,  we  must  be  on  our  guard 
not  to  over-cultivate  this  constructive  instinct,  which  is  as 
imitative  as  it  is  inventive,  and  as  clumsy  as  it  is  irrepres- 
sible. 


2/8    THE  FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

One  day,  thinking  that  I  should  greatly  interest  one  of 
my  nephews,  a  little  fellow  rather  more  than  three,  and  very 
intelligent  for  his  age,  I  said  to  him  in  the  garden,  that  we 
would  make  the  river  Adour,  with  the  bridge,  and  the 
poplars  on  its  banks.  With  the  end  of  my  cane  I  scooped 
out  a  long  furrow  several  inches  wide.  I  broke  off  son:>e 
arbutus  twigs  and  planted  them  on  each  side  of  the  furrow 
to  represent  the  poplars ;  and  I  constructed  the  bridge  with 
tlie  lid  of  a  box  supported  on  heaps  of  stones  which  repre- 
sented the  piles.  When  it  was  finished  I  asked  my  nephew 
if  it  was  not  very  pretty.  He  replied  :  "  No,  it  is  not  pretty." 
I  was  not  discouraged,  however ;  I  emptied  two  large  pails 
of  water  into  the  furrow,  and  the  water  trickled  slowly  down 
producing  a  stream  which  I  dignified  with  the  appellation 
of  the  Adour.  Still,  however,  I  got  no  admiration  for  my 
pains.  I  then  made  two  paper  boats  and  launched  them 
on  my  river,  which  I  had  first  replenished  with  another 
supply  of  water.  The  boy,  who  was  very  fond  of  boats, 
instantly  seized  one  of  them  and  put  it  back  on  the  river, 
now  almost  dry  again.  I  poured  in  a  fresh  torrent,  which, 
being  too  impetuous  and  abundant,  submerged  the  frail 
craft.  The  child  cried  out :  "  But  there  are  no  boats  on 
the  Adour !  They  are  on  the  Garonne,  and  they  don't  do 
like  that  on  the  Garonne.  No,  that  is  not  amusing,  no,  not 
at  all."  I  thought  it  was  useless  to  argue  the  matter,  and  I 
walked  off,  laughing  to  myself  over  my  clumsy  attempt  at 
infant  construction.  I  had  already  often  read  in  books,  but 
this  time  I  had  learnt  experimentally,  tliat  the  initiative  of 
children  is  always  superior  to  what  we  try  to  devise  for 
them.  This  experiment  and  many  others  have  tauglit  me 
that  their  creative  or  poetic  force  is  much  weaker  than  is 
commonly  supposed. 

IV. 

THE    DRAMATIC    INSTINCT. 

The  imitation  of  gestures,  sounds,  and  the  cries  of 
animals,  also  indicates  in  all  children  a  first  awakening  of  the 
sesthetic  sense.     One  child  of  eleven  months  used  to  clasp 


THE   DRAMATIC  INSTINCT.  279 

his  hands  together,  as  he  had  seen  other  people  do,  to 
express  astonishment  or  joy.  He  used  to  imitate  all  that 
pleased  him  in  other  people ;  and  very  often  the  mere  fact  of 
imitation  was  a  pleasure  to  him.  I  had  given  him  a  little 
bucket,  which  he  used  to  hold  in  his  hand  while  walking 
with  me  in  the  garden.  One  day  I  threw  a  pebble  into  the 
bucket ;  instantly  the  child  picked  up  another  pebble  and 
threw  it  in  also,  and  then  he  rattled  the  bucket  with  all  his 
might.  One  lesson  was  enough  to  teach  him  a  game  which 
he  repeats  frequently ;  it  consists  in  covering  his  head  with 
a  table-napkin  or  shawl,  and  saying,  "  a  pu^^  {il  n'y  est  plus)  y 
and  then  popping  his  head  out  again. 

His  aptitude  for  imitation  showed  itself  very  curiously, 
up  to  a  certain  day  he  had  always  needed  some  one  to 
help  him  walk,  but  only  one  person.  If  he  was  with  his 
father,  directly  he  saw  me,  he  would  call  me  papa,  ask  for 
my  hand,  and  leave  his  father  as  soon  as  he  had  hold  of 
mine.  He  would  do  the  same  to  all  new-comers — let  go 
the  hand  he  was  holding  to  take  theirs.  One  day  I  noticed 
that  he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  my  feet  all  the  time  we  were 
walking,  and  to  amuse  him  I  began  taking  very  long  strides, 
which  made  him  laugh  very  much  and  jump  about  with 
dehght.  I  repeated  this  amusement  the  next  day;  the 
child  then,  to  imitate  me,  stretched  out  his  legs  till  they 
were  almost  horizontal.  Naturally  he  lost  his  balance  and 
fell  down.  Then  he  asked  for  the  hand  of  the  next  person 
he  saw,  and  without  letting  go  of  mine,  he  began  to  take  these 
long  steps  again.  Now,  if  there  are  two  people  near  him, 
he  must  always  have  a  hand  from  each,  in  order  to  perform 
this  pecuhar  walk. 

We  know  how  early  children's  games  take  the  form  of 
dramatic  scenes.  When  only  three  or  four  months  old, 
their  whole  bodies  become  agitated  and  they  utter  cries  of 
delight  if  their  mother  or  sister  hides  for  a  minute  behind 
a  handkerchief  or  an  apron.  They  will  repeat  before 
visitors  the  games  which  amused  their  parents.  Almost  all 
children  display,  in  varying  degrees,  a  tendency  to  perform 
monkey  tricks,  to  say  absurdities,  and  to  repeat  strange- 
sounding  syllables,  for  the  edification  of  those  around  them, 


28o   THE   FIRST  THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

and  especially  to  win  the  admiration  of  strangers.  I  know- 
two  such  children,  the  eldest  of  whom  is  more  than  three, 
whose  mania  for  this  kind  of  thing  renders  them  almost 
insupportable  :  the  presence  of  a  visitor  excites  them  to 
such  a  degree  that  they  have  to  be  sent  out  of  the  room. 
The  eldest  especially  never  makes  a  gesture  or  movement 
without  turning  round  to  the  visitors  to  see  if  they  are  look- 
ing at  him  ;  he  seems  to  think  they  have  no  eyes  or  ears  for 
any  one  but  him  ;  and  that  they  are  only  there  to  laugh  at 
him  and  his  tricks. 

We  must  endeavour  to  preserve  in  children  and  their 
games  their  primitive  character  of  innocent  mischief  and 
fun.  Mockery,  which  is  an  odious  tendency,  borders  very 
closely  on  the  fun  which  delights  us.  I  think  that  in  general 
this  fault,  even  when  hereditary,  does  not  appear  in  children 
under  the  age  of  three  unless  it  has  been  developed  by 
example  and  encouragement.  The  sense  of  the  ridiculous 
seems  to  be  very  weak  at  this  age.  We  must  not  imagine 
that  because  children  very  early  show  a  tendency  to  pick 
out  and  imitate  the  physical  defects  of  people,  they  have 
any  notion  that  they  are  defects  or  absurdities.  It  is  only 
that  they  are  astonished  at  singular  appearances  and  shapes 
and  want  to  know  the  reason  of  them. 

A  child  four  years  old,  having  seen  in  the  street  a  man 
very  much  bent,  and  at  another  time  a  very  little  old  man, 
observed  them  very  attentively  and  afterwards  asked  how  they 
were  made  like  that.  His  brother,  two  years  and  a  half, 
made  remarks  of  the  same  kind :  "  Why  does  he  walk  like 
that,  mamma?"  But  there  was  no  perception  of  the  gro- 
tesque, as  such,  in  either  of  the  children, 

A  child  of  three  years,  having  stayed  for  three  weeks  with 
some  relations,  brought  back  with  him  some  ugly  mocking 
liabits.  He  had  sometimes  seen  in  his  walks  a  little  old 
hunchback,  and  he  had  taken  to  mimicking  him,  bending  his 
back  double  and  taking  little  hurried  steps ;  and  the  servants 
had  laughed  at  and  encouraged  this  pantomime.  The  family 
too  treated  it  as  a  laughing  matter.  From  this  time  forth 
the  child's  chief  delight  was  to  ad  tJie  little  old  7nan.  Num- 
bers of  parents  are  too  ready  to  encourage  this  love  of  cari- 


THE   DRAMATIC   INSTINCT.  28 1 

cature  because  they  see  in  it  the  sign  of  a  vivacious  nature 
and  an  observing  turn  of  mind.  But  this  is  one  of  the  worst 
uses  that  inteUigence  can  be  put  to.  RidicuUng  and  cari- 
caturing, unless  for  legitimate  ends,  are  anything  but  pleas- 
ing in  adults,  and  certainly  not  in  children,  who  have  no  call 
to  practise  them.  "  These  mocking,  comedian  manners," 
says  Fenelon,  "have  something  in  them  that  is  low  taste  and 
contrary  to  all  good  feeling." 

Plenty  of  fun  in  their  games,  and  plenty  of  merriment, 
but  no  mockery,  is  the  best  rule  for  all  infant  dramatizing. 

This  tendency  to  imitate  and  dramatize  may  easily  have 
been  derived  from  imitations  which  were  both  harmless 
and  instructive.  Before  they  are  fifteen  months  old,  most 
children  will  counterfeit  very  diolly  the  voices,  the  songs, 
and  cries  of  a  certain  number  of  animals.  This  is  a  very 
innocent  use  of  the  comic  faculty,  and  it  has  the  advantage 
of  developing  the  vocal  organs,  and  of  leading  children 
to  study  the  cries  and  habits  of  animals.  It  is  very  easy 
to  prevent  this  tendency  from  degenerating  later  into  an 
unkind,  unbecoming  habit. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

PERSONALITY. — REFLECTION.      MORAL   SENSE. 

The  idea  of  the  ego  is  a  very  obscure  one  both  for  psy- 
chologists and  physiologists  ;  for  each  individual,  however,  it 
is  very  distinct  Human  beings  and  animals  very  quickly 
learn  not  to  confound  themselves  with  the  people  around 
them.  This  idea,  moreover,  is  only  a  progressive  development 
of  the  innate  sense  of  personality  which  we  have  alluded  to 
before.  We  may  consider  it  up  to  a  certain  point  as  innate 
and  hereditary,  and  as  being  already  exercised  and  nourished 
by  impressions  during  the  foetal  life ;  in  short,  as  forming 
part  of  the  cerebral  predispositions  which  the  child  brings 
with  him  into  the  world.  It  strengthens  afterwards,  and 
becomes  more  defined  in  proportion  as  the  organs  develop, 
as  experiences  multiply  and  comparisons  extend,  and  as  the 
power  of  abstiaction  and  of  generalization  progresses. 

In  the  new-born  child  the  personality  is,  or  seems  to  be, 
especially  concentrated  in  the  emotional  sphere.  He  does 
not  distinctly  recognise  any  object  or  himself;  but  he  feels 
the  presence  of  objects,  and  he  feels  himself  live  and  feel 
and  act.  A  baby  of  one  month  has  just  been  brought  into 
my  room.  He  scarcely  knows  his  mother's  voice,  and  he 
does  not  respond  to  it  by  any  gesture,  nor  by  smiling,  which 
action  he  still  performs  automatically  and  without  any 
meaning.  But  he  is  beginning  to  know  his  mother's  breast 
by  sight.  For  the  last  ten  days  he  has  been  able  to  see 
sufficiently  to  distinguish  objects.  Before  this  he  only  fol- 
lowed with  his  eyes  the  movements  of  a  candle  ;  now  he 
follows  all  brilliant  or  moving  objects.  He  has  followed  the 
movement  of  my  finger  which  I  waved  before  him  a  few 


PERSONALITY.  283 

centimetres  off;  he  has  also  followed  a  sheet  of  white  paper 
whicii  i  shook  a  little  further  off.  But  nearly  all  the  time 
he  has  been  in  the  room  his  eyes  have  been  fixed  on  an 
object  placed  near  the  window,  or  the  window  itself;  I 
think  it  must  have  been  a  picture-frame  which  glittered  in 
the  light  from  the  window  which  riveted  his  attention.  It 
seemed  to  me  for  a  moment  that  he  turned  his  head  towards 
me,  i.e.,  to  the  left,  to  listen  when  I  spoke;  I  placed  myself 
on  the  other  side,  and  spoke  in  a  loud  voice ;  he  turned 
again,  but  slowly,  perhaps  because  the  sound  came  rather 
from  behind.  He  performed,  as  if  unconsciously,  a  balanced 
movement  from  up  to  down  with  his  left  arm  ;  I  touched  his 
cheek  with  my  finger  and  then  with  a  pen-holder ;  he  reversed 
the  automatic  movement,  but  his  arm  did  not  go  up  to  his 
cheek.  He  made  the  same  movement  when  I  rubbed  the 
tip  of  his  nose  gently,  accompanying  it  with  a  very  rapid 
twitch  of  his  left  nostril  and  a  puckering  of  his  forehead, 
which  lasted  for  three  or  four  seconds.  His  mother  hav- 
ing pushed  his  cap  a  little  aside,  and  then  covered  his  head 
with  a  veil,  he  puckered  his  forehead,  opened  his  mouth 
with  a  grimace,  and  uttered  a  little  cry  of  discontent.  When 
he  has  a  stomach-ache,  which  very  often  happens,  he  is  very 
much  disturbed,  and  throws  his  arms  about,  as  if  to  repulse 
an  unknown  evil.  I  put  my  finger  under  his,  his  hand 
trembled  a  little  at  first,  and  then  he  squeezed  my  finger 
very  tightly;  I  pretended  to  withdraw  it,  and  he  held  it 
still  more  firmly,  and  when  at  last  I  gave  it  up  to  him,  he 
lifted  it  to  his  Hps.  But  he  only  sucked  it  for  a  few  seconds, 
very  quickly  realizing  that  it  was  not  the  teat  which  nourished 
him.  Thus  then  a  child's  impressions,  ideas,  and  actions 
at  this  age  are  entirely  vegetative  and  rudimentary,  and 
almost  exclusively,  though  vaguely  personal  His  only  per- 
sistent and  continuous  idea  of  consciousness  seems  to  be  ot 
himself;  all  else  is  fleeting,  dimly  seen,  vaguely  remembered, 
anything  but  distinct. 

Let  us  now  take  a  child  of  three  months.  What  progress 
we  now  find  has  been  made  in  all  the  functions,  and  in  the 
idea  of  its  own  personality  !  This  small  infant  distinguishes 
his  mother  from  the  other  people  of  the  house,  when  they 


284   THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS   OF  CHILDHOOD. 

are  with  him  at  the  same  time  as  his  mother ;  he  holds  out  his 
arms  to  her  in  preference  to  any  one  else.  He  is  not  yet 
sufficiently  advanced  in  comparison  to  distinguish  a  feeding- 
bottle  full  of  milk  from  one  full  of  water ;  but  when  his  sister 
tries  to  take  away  his  bottle  he  gets  angry.  He  knows  that 
coco  is  a  name  for  the  bird,  and  he  turns  towards  its  cage 
when  he  hears  the  word.  He  bends  down  towards  liis  feet, 
and  stretches  his  arms  towards  the  bottom  of  his  frock  when 
any  one  asks  him  where  his  feet  or  his  frock  are.  His 
mother's  fondling  often  stops  his  tears  when  he  is  in  pain. 
He  smiles  when  any  one  smiles  at  him,  and  strokes  his 
mother.  Here  we  see  all  the  faculties, — sensibility,  intelli- 
gence, and  intentional  motricity, — already  exercising  them- 
selves with  delicacy,  strength,  and  facility,  and  consciously 
into  the  bargain.  He  distinguishes  different  objects  from  one 
another  and  also  from  himself,  and  he  can  distinguish  the 
various  parts  of  his  body.  Two  months  more,  and  the  as- 
sociation of  his  name  with  the  impressions  connected  with 
his  personahty  will  be  a  real  symbol  to  him,  distinctly  repre- 
senting his  personality  and  nothing  else. 

The  concrete  notion  of  personality  which  succeeds  the 
primitive  sentiment  of  this  personality  seems  to  me  already 
completely  formed  when  the  child  begins  to  express  his 
thoughts.  This  is  why  I  think  it  a  mistake  to  attempt  too 
much  to  find  out  what  he  is  thinking  by  what  he  says.  For 
instance,  although  the  contrary  is  generally  held  to  be  true, 
I  cannot  admit  that,  because  children  speak  of  themselves 
in  the  third  person,  therefore  the  notion  of  their  personality 
and  the  term  which  they  use  to  express  it,  are  not  yet  com- 
pletely detached  from  external  objectivity.  When  the  child 
learns  to  say  /  or  me^  instead  of  Charles  or  Faul^  the  terms 
/  or  me  are  not  more  abstract  to  him  than  the  proper  names 
which  he  has  been  taught  to  replace  by  /  and  me.  Both 
the  pronouns  and  the  names  equally  express  a  very  distinct 
and  very  concrete  idea  of  individual  personality.  When  a 
three-years-old  child  says,  /  ivant  that,  it  is  only  a  transla- 
tion oi  Paul  wants  that ;  and  /,  like  Paul,  indicates  neithet 
the  first  nor  the  third  person,  but  the  person  who  is  himself, 
his  own  well-known  personality,  which  he  continually  feels  in 


PERSONALITY.  285 

his  emotions  and  actions.  An  abstract  notion  of  personality 
does  not  exist  in  a  young  child's  mind. 

May  we  not  also  believe  that  animals  have  quite  as  dis- 
tinct an  idea  of  their  own  personality  as  we  ourselves  have  ? 
I  have  a  cat  which  answers  to  the  name  of  Mimi^  which  she 
knows  very  well  only  designates  herself;  not  only  does  she 
come  when  she  is  called  by  this  name,  but  if  any  one  men- 
tions the  name  casually  in  her  presence,  she  pricks  up  her 
ears  and  looks  up  with  a  significant  expression  of  counte- 
nance ;  and  more  than  this,  although  she  is  never  addressed 
as  mother^  if  any  one  says  the  mother,  she  shows  plainly  that 
she  has  learnt, — impossible  to  say  how, — that  this  word  also 
is  qualificative  of  her  individuality. 

"  No  one  supposes,"  says  Darwin,  "  that  one  of  the  lower 
animals  reflects  whence  he  comes  or  whither  he  goes — 
what  is  death  and  what  is  life,  and  so  forth.  But  can  we 
feel  sure  that  an  old  dog  with  an  excellent  memory  and 
some  power  of  imagination,  as  shown  by  his  dreams,  never 
reflects  on  his  past  pleasures  in  the  chase  ?  And  this  would 
be  a  form  of  self-consciousness.  On  the  other  hand,  as 
Biichner  remarked,  how  litde  can  the  hard-worked  wife  of  a 
degraded  Australian  savage,  who  hardly  uses  an  abstract 
word  and  cannot  count  above  four,  exert  her  self-conscious- 
ness, or  reflect  on  the  nature  of  her  own  existence. 

"  That  animals  retain  their  mental  individuality  is  un- 
questionable. When  my  voice  awakened  a  train  of  old 
associations  in  the  mind  of  the  above-mentioned  dog,  he 
must  have  retained  his  mental  individuality,  although  every 
atom  of  his  brain  had  probably  undergone  change  more 
than  once  during  the  interval  of  five  years.  This  dog  might 
have  brought  forward  the  argument  lately  advanced  to  crush 
all  evolutionists,  and  said :  '  I  abide  amid  all  mental  moods 
and  all  material  changes.'  "  ^ 

This  being  conceded,  we  do  not  think  we  are  detracting 
from  the  dignity  of  infant  man,  if,  in  spite  of  his  intellectual 
predispositions  and  the  incontestably  superior  impressions 


*  Darwin,   Descent  of  Man,  etc.,  vol.  i.,  p.  62. 


286   THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF   CHILDHOOD. 

which  result  from  education,  we  recognise  in  him  no  higher 
notion  of  personality,  or  power  of  reflection  on  his  states  of 
being  and  his  operations,  than  what  we  may  suppose  to 
exist  in  the  superior  animals  when  young ;  while,  in  com- 
parison to  adult  and  experienced  animals,  we  think  the 
young  human  being  inferior  in  this  respect. 

Between  the  ages  of  two  and  four,  the  personal  sentiment 
manifests  itself  in  an  extreme  degree,  even  in  the  gentlest 
and  best-brought-up  children.  A  child  I  knew  who  is  now 
a  little  over  three,  was  extremely  thin-skinned  up  to  his 
twenty-sixth  month  :  he  would  cry  and  scream  for  the  slight- 
est fall,  and  thought  himself  done  for  if  he  got  a  scratch. 
He  has  been  cured  through  his  amour  propre.  The  other 
day  he  had  a  heavy  fall  in  my  presence  ;  he  picked  him- 
self up  quickly,  however,  after  first  going  on  all  fours  to 
make  believe  he  had  not  fallen.  Another  time  he  stumbled 
on  the  staircase,  and  rolled  over  several  times,  bumping 
his  head  pretty  hard.  I  ran  up  to  him,  but  he  had  already 
got  up  and  was  struggling  his  hardest  not  to  cry.  "Did 
you  fall?"  I  said.  "No,  no,"  he  answered  indignantly, 
"  I'm  not  crying,  I  tumbled  down  for  fun." 

This  personal  feeling  and  instinct  of  reflection  sometimes 
occasioned  in  him,  even  before  the  age  of  three,  naif  and 
touching  fits  of  inward  retrospection.  He  had  a  bad  cold 
and  head-ache  one  day.  He  had  been  promised  that  some 
little  girl  friends  should  come  that  evening  to  tea  with  him. 
In  spite  of  his  suffering  he  was  awaiting  them  impatiently, 
and  was  determined  not  to  go  to  bed.  It  was  piteous  to 
see  him  holding  his  little  head  in  his  hands  and  saying, 
"  I  should  like  to  die  ;  when  one  is  dead,  one  cannot  have 
a  headache.  If  I  had  not  been  born,  I  should  not  suffer. 
But  I  don't  want  to  die,  mamma  would  be  so  sad."  When 
the  expected  playfellows  arrived,  he  ran  up  to  them,  and 
kissed  them,  and  then  brought  chairs  to  the  fire  and  said 
to  them,  "  Sit  down  and  warm  yourselves  \  cold  gives  you 
headache  ;  "  then  addressing  the  little  one  he  liked  best 
among  them,  he  said,  "  Perhaps  you  don't  much  want  to 
dance  ?  Have  you  got  a  headache  ?  "  The  suffering,  which 
had  thrown  him  back  on  himself  in  so  touching  a  manner. 


THE   MORAL  SENSE  287 

had  opened  up  in  his  heart  a  well  of  sympathy,  which 
quality  is  not  so  rare  as  one  would  suppose  in  these  shallow 
and  egoistic  little  beings. 

The  sense  of  personality  is  so  strong  in  young  children 
that  it  is  always  on  the  verge  of  excess.  It  amounts  in  them 
to  egoism,  self-sufficiency,  and  assertiveness,  though  they 
now  and  then  have  sudden  rebounds  of  sympathy,  tender- 
ness, credulity,  and  self-distrust.  It  is  from  this  personal 
feeling,  the  natural  tendencies  of  which  have  both  to  be 
encouraged  and  checked,  that  the  moral  sense  springs,  or, 
in  so  far  as  it  is  hereditary,  that  it  draws  material  for 
its  development. 

II. 

THE    MORAL   SENSE. 

The  wholly  objective  notion  of  good  and  evil, — the  intel- 
lectual germ  of  the  moral  sense, — cannot  be  determined 
before  the  age  of  six  or  seven  months.  I  have  seen  a  child 
seven  months  old,  whose  mother  had  taught  by  scolding 
and  shaking  him,  that  he  must  not  scream  to  be  taken  out 
of  bed  or  nursed,  if  his  gestures  and  articulations  to  this 
end  were  not  instantly  attended  to.  But  how  many  children 
are  there  not  at  this  age,  and  even,  later,  who,  the  more  one 
tries  to  exact  silence  from. them,  the  less  they  will  obey?  A 
shght  thwarting  of  their  wills  results  often  in  tremendous 
scenes  of  passion,  tears,  sobs,  and  screams.  A  child  of  ten 
months  (and  many  well-trained  children  arrive  at  this  earlier) 
knew  very  well  how  to  make  himself  understood  when  he 
was  afraid  of  making  a  mess  in  his  cradle.  He  knew  too 
that  when  he  wanted  any  thing  which  was  refused  him,  it  was 
naughty  to  persist  in  wanting  it,  and  especially  to  cry  in 
order  to  get  it.  He  had  a  habit  of  scratching  the  face  of 
people  who  took  him  in  their  arms,  half  in  play  and  half 
from  unconscious  naughtiness ;  but  he  had  at  last  been 
taught  obedience  in  this  matter.  In  all  this  we  see  the 
germ  of  the  moral  sense. 

The  first  dawning  of  the  moral  sense  appears  in  the  child 
as  soon  as  he  understands  the  signification  of  certain  intona- 


288   THE  FIRST   THREE   YEARS  OF   CHILDHOOD. 

tions  of  the  voice,  of  certain  attitudes,  of  a  certain  expression 
of  countenance,  intended  to  reprimand  him  for  what  he  has 
done  or  to  warn  him  against  something  he  was  on  the  point 
of  doing.  This  penal  and  remunerative  sanction  gives  rise 
by  degrees  to  a  clear  distinction  of  concrete  good  and  evil. 
As  soon  as  the  child  begins  to  obey  from  fear  or  from  habit, 
he  enters  on  the  possession  of  the  moral  sense ;  as  soon  as 
he  obeys  in  order  to  be  rewarded  or  praised,  or  to  give 
pleasure,  he  has  advanced  further  in  this  possession. 

The  moral  sense,  in  its  objective  form,  is  still  very  incom- 
plete in  little  children,  even  between  the  ages  of  two  and 
four.  They  have,  however,  a  very  advanced  idea  of  what 
is  allowed  and  what  forbidden,  of  what  they  must  or  may, 
and  what  they  must  not  do,  as  regards  their  physical  and 
moral  habits.  Moral  law  is  for  them  embodied  in  their 
parents,  in  the  mother  especially,  even  during  their  absence. 

Last  summer  we  had  a  little  nephew  staying  with  us  for 
two  months.  Just  at  first  he  was  very  reserved  and  very 
good,  as  if  he  were  on  the  defensive,  or  as  if  he  were  taking 
stock  of  his  surroundings.  He  behaved  well  at  table,  asked 
politely  for  what  he  wanted,  and  when  he  had  had  enough,  said, 
"  I  have  finished."  But  when  the  meal  was  ended,  excited 
by  a  certain  amount  of  indulgence  which  he  had  received 
(unconsciously  on  our  part),  but  which  he  had  fully  appreci- 
ated, h'^  said  :  "  At  home,  when  I  have  done  eating,  mam- 
ma lets  me  leave  the  table.  We  hastened  to  gratify  this 
desire,  which  seemed  very  legitimate.  Then  we  began  to 
play  with  him,  and  succeeded  in  amusing  him  for  half  an 
hour.  At  last  he  grew  tired  and  burst  into  tears,  saying : 
"  Mamma  puts  me  to  bed  when  I  cry."  He  was  then  taken 
to  the  bedroom  and  undressed.  Then  he  began  to  cry  again 
and  to  gesticulate  in  a  desperate  manner;  he  talked  about  his 
mother,  and  we  thought  he  was  fretting  for  her;  but  he 
hastened  to  explain  that  his  mother  did  this,  and  that,  and  the 
other  when  she  put  him  to  bed;  and  then  followed  a  string 
of  prescriptions,  relative  to  his  going  to  bed,  which  he 
evidently  regarded  as  so  many  obligations  we  were  bound  to 
fulfil.  Thus,  whatever  was  ordinarily  done  for  him  was  his 
idea  of  what  was  right  to  do.     It  was  the  same  with  his  own 


THE   MORAL   SENSE,  289 

actions.     He  said  to  us  :  "  It  is  very  wicked  to  tell  stories 
or  to  disobey ;  it  gives  mamma  pain,  and  makes  her  cry." 

Thus,  for  the  young  child,  as  well  as  for  animals,  good  is 
what  is  permitted ;  evil,  what  is  forbidden.  And  hence  arises 
frequent  uncertainty  with  regard  to  new  actions  or  to  habi- 
tual ones  under  new  circumstances.  At  the  end  of  several 
days,  the  good  habits  of  the  child  became  modified  accord- 
ing to  his  new  impressions  and  according  to  the  character  of 
the  persons  who  surrounded  him.  At  first  I  inspired  him 
with  great  respect.  It  was  I  who  brought  him  to  the  house; 
and  no  doubt  I  reminded  him  of  his  father,  whom  he  feared 
more  than  his  mother.  He  always  looked  at  me  before 
doing  anything  that  he  knew  was  not  right :  he  was  more  at 
his  ease  and  less  circumspect  with  other  members  of  my 
family,  who  inspired  him  with  less  awe.  He  acquired  some 
habits  contrary  to  those  he  had  formed  at  home.  He  was 
sometimes  disobedient,  and  he  got  into  the  way  of  crying 
for  what  he  wanted.  I  found  myself  henceforth  compelled 
to  make  a  departure  from  one  of  my  principles  regarding 
infant  education,  which  is,  to  turn  children's  attention  as 
much  as  possible  away  from  their  illegitimate  desires  or 
their  little  sorrows  arising  from  trifles,  and  to  reprimand 
them  as  little  as  possible  and  only  in  extreme  cases.  I  was 
now  obliged  to  raise  my  voice  very  often,  and  to  make  a 
gesture  which  he  recognised  as  a  dreaded  gesture 'of  his 
father's,  but  which  I  did  not  go  the  length  of  putiing  into 
effect. 

The  preceding  observations  show  that  the  morality  learnt 
by  the  young  child  is  an  edifice  built  up  at  the  cost  of  great 
labour,  patience,  and  prudence,  and  which  may  crumble 
away  in  a  few  weeks  in  the  midst  of  diff"erent  circumstances 
and  surroundings. 

The  moral  sense,  then,  is  one  of  the  hereditary  faculties^ 
most  liable  to  be  modified  by  circumstances.  It  is  not  in 
vain  that  we  appeal  to  this  social  instinct,  this  individual 
impressionability  and  sympathy,  this  innate  desire  to  please, 
which  plays  such  an  important  part  in  the  culture  of  the 
young  moral  faculties.  A  little  girl  fourteen  months  old  was 
always  very  unhappy  when  her  mother  said,  "  I  am  angry, 

u 


290   THE  FIRST   THREE   YEARS   OF  CHTLUHOOD. 

baby."  But  she  was  indifferent  to  most  of  tlie  scoldings  of 
her  father,  whom  she  was  accustomed  to  hear  rage  and 
threaten.  When  two  years  and  five  months  old,  the  son  of 
Tiedemann,  if  he  thought  he  had  done  something  very  good, 
used  to  cry  out :  "People  will  say,  That  is  a  very  good  boy!" 
When  he  was  naughty,  if  any  one  said  to  him,  "The  neighbour 
will  see  it,"  he  desisted  immediately.  There  are  delicacies 
of  sensibility  innate  in  children  which  are  never  appealed  to 
in  vain  by  good  educators,  and  which  even  with  children 
who  are  the  least  gifted  in  this  respect  are  the  best  auxili- 
aries and  the  most  efficacious  substitutes  for  coercive 
means.  I  saw  a  woman  yesterday  passing  in  the  street  who 
had  been  shopping  with  her  little  girl  about  three  years  old. 
The  child  was  walking  a  step  or  two  in  advance  of  her 
mother,  and  kept  on  turning  round  to  catch  a  look  or  gesture 
of  approval ;  she  had  been  charged  with  the  execution  of  a 
task  which  she  considered  very  serious,  and  she  thought 
herself  very  meritorious  for  performing  it  well.  She  was 
carrying  on  the  palms  of  both  her  hands  a  parcel  of  very 
large  circumference  but  very  thin  and  light,  and  which  must 
have  seemed  exceedingly  large  to  her  in  comparison  with 
her  own  small  dimensions ;  and  to  carry  it  without  stumbling 
or  letting  it  fall  seemed  to  her  a  great  feat  of  skill.  She  was 
taking  all  this  trouble  to  please  her  mother,  and  to  win  her 
admiration  and  praise.  Passive  obedience,  and  the  fear  of 
being  punished  or  scolded,  would  scarcely  have  obtained  a 
result  like  this,  which  is  so  easily  and  surely  gained  by  an 
appeal  to  the  benevolent  and  generous  sentiments  of  our 
nature. 

The  sentiment  of  justice  sometimes  manifests  itself  with 
great  force  in  young  children,  especially  at  the  period  when 
they  have  become  able  to  express  distinctly  what  they  feel 
The  first  time  that  a  certain  child  of  my  acquaintance,  now 
four  years  old,  told  a  deliberate  falsehood,  his  mother 
thought  it  her  duty  to  punish  him.  She  told  him  that  she 
was  going  to  shut  him  up  in  the  cellar,  and  she  made  him  go 
with  her  down  the  stairs  which  led  to  it.  On  the  way  down, 
the  child,  whose  imagination  was  struck  witli  tlie  importance 
attached  to  his  fault,  and  who  had  begun  to  feel  very  guilty, 


THE   MORAL   SENSE.  29 1 

said  to  his  mother  :  "  But,  mamma,  perhaps  I  am  not  suffi- 
ciently punished  for  such  a  great  fault?" 

Some  months  afterwards,  he  was  sent  to  his  grandmother's, 
where  he  used  to  behave  as  a  Httle  despot  and  tyrant.  One 
day,  when  he  had  perpetrated  some  mischief  or  other  which 
was  considered  very  serious,  his  grandmother  shut  him  up 
in  a  dark  room  close  to  the  kitchen.  Five  minutes  had 
hardly  passed  when,  notwithstanding  her  deafness,  the  old 
lady  heard  shrill  screams  like  those  of  a  peacock.  She 
hurried  to  open  the  door  of  the  prison,  and  the  child  rushed 
out,  his  face  bathed  in  tears  and  convulsed  with  fear  and 
anger.  As  he  was  only  half-afraid  of  his  grandmother,  who 
was  much  too  indulgent  to  him ;  he  thought  she  had  not  the 
right  to  punish  him  so  severely,  and  he  protested  against 
what  he  considered  an  injustice  :  "  Oh !  naughty  grand- 
mamma, you  are  very  naughty!  I  said  I  would  never  go 
back  there,  and  you  have  shut  me  in  there  again  !  You 
want  the  rats  to  eat  me  !  They  would  first  of  all  have  eaten 
my  feet,  and  then  I  should  have  died.  Mamma  would  have 
been  very  unhappy  :  she  would  never  have  come  back  here, 
nor  my  father  either.  I  will  tell  him  about  it."  It  is  note- 
worthy that  children  at  first  only  apply  the  idea  of  justice 
to  other  people's  actions,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  senti- 
ments which  these  actions  awaken  in  themselves.  They  are 
irritated  when  any  one  takes  away  their  toys  ;  and  it  is  by 
dint  of  experiencing  this  annoyance  and  also  from  hearing 
it  said  that  it  is  naughty  to  take  other  people's  things,  that 
they  end  by  forming,  first  a  concrete  notion  and  then  a 
tolerably  general  one,  of  illicit  appropriation.  Again,  if  one 
of  his  brothers  or  sisters  is  punished,  he  will  come  and  tell 
you  all  about  the  , punishment,  the  fault  which  was  com- 
mitted, and  above  all  the  manner  in  which  the  culprit  bore 
the  punishment ;  and  he  will  not  fail  to  qualify  the  faulty 
action  by  some  general  epithet :  and  all  this  because  he 
himself  has  committed  like  faultsand  consequently  undergone 
like  punishments.  Children,  moreover,  detest  injustice, 
especially  when  perpetrated,  or  supposed  to  be  perpetrated, 
against  themselves ;  but  they  see  nothing  more  in  it  than 
disagreement  between  the  habitual  and  the  accidental  way 
of  treating  them. 


292    THE   FIRST   THREE   YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

It  is  the  same  with  all  other  moral  habits,  and  also  with 
the  moral  sense,  which  in  children — indeed  also  in  adults — 
is  generally  nothing  more  than  the  theory  of  their  thoughts 
and  actions.  "This  psychological  law  should  never  be  lost 
sight  of,  of  so  great  consequence  is  it.  All  our  tendencies, 
innate  or  acquired,  good  or  bad,  and  consequently  all  our 
habits,  in  whatever  way  we  have  contracted  them,  not  only 
tend  to  determine  our  conduct  as  a  matter  of  fact  and  as 
actual  motives,  but  also  to  impose  themselves  as  reasons 
to  the  deliberative  will,  or  at  any  rate  to  suggest  justifying 
sophisms,  of  which  the  corrupted  judgment  finally  becomes 
a  dupe  almost  in  good  faith."  ^  Actions  influence  thoughts, 
and  thoughts  influence  actions.  Hence  interest,  self-love, 
and  passion  have  their  good  share  in  the  best  resolutions 
of  children.  They  seek  to  determine  the  motives  of  their 
actions,  even  when  they  are  not  asked  for  them.  "  I  did 
this  or  that  because  .  .  ."  This  formula  is  constantly 
on  their  lips.  They  try  to  obtain  our  praises  for  numbers 
of  insignificant  actions  which  they  think  meritorious.  They 
imagine  motives,  sometimes  utterly  improbable,  for  the 
actions  of  others,  which  they  judge  according  to  their  own  ; 
but  above  all  they  imagine  specious  reasons  for  explaining 
their  own  most  blamable  actions.  What  is  true  of  habits, 
is  also  true  of  the  moral  sense  ;  if  in  one  way  they  tend  to 
disinterestedness,  they  are  always  ''  interested  in  some  way 
or  other."  2 

If  then  we  wish  to  understand  the  meaning  of  the  actions 
of  little  children,  and  to  direct  their  wills  in  a  useful  and 
progressive  manner,  we  must  bear  in  mind  that  all  their  ten- 
dencies, whatever  they  may  be,  begin  and  end  with  egoism. 
We  must  especially  beware  of  attributing  to  the  moral  sense, 
and  with  children  still  less  than  with  adults,  a  power  of  de- 
termination which  it  does  not  possess.  If  man  is  far  from 
being  able  to  do  what  he  wills,  a  fortiori  is  he  far  from  being 
able  to  will  that  of  which  he  may  have  a  very  distinct  idea. 

The  moral  sense  simply  furnishes  the  more  or  less  con- 

*  H.  Marion,  La  Solidarity  Morale,  p.  109. 
-  V.  M.  Guyau,  La  Morale  d'Epicurey  p.  220. 


THE   MORAL   SENSE.  293 

scions  will  with  motives  more  or  less  strong  according  to 
individuals,  places,  times,  and  situations.  The  business  oi 
psychlogical  educators  is  much  more  concerned  with  the 
habits  that  children  may  acquire,  and  with  their  wills,  which 
are  also  developed  by  habitual  practice,  than  with  the  de- 
velopment of  their  moral  conscience.  The  latter  is  the 
blossom  which  will  be  followed  by  fruit ;  but  the  former  are 
the  roots  and  branches. 

/i^AVith  the  development  of  intelligence  and  thought,  the 
primitive  distinction  of  good  and  evil  enlarges  and  becomes 
better  defined.  Submission  to  authority,  and  docility,  also 
increase  with  experience  and  reflection.  With  the  ten- 
dency to  reflection  there  spring  up  also,  little  by  little,  sym- 
pathy, the  love  of  praise,  amour-propre^  the  susceptibility  to 
example,  the  fear  of  reproach,  the  desire  not  to  be  scolded 
and  to  give  pleasure  to  those  belonging  to  one.  And  thus 
that  state  of  mind  is  constituted  in  which  reflection  dominates 
the  contrary  tendency  and  renders  possible  the  government 
of  self.  Out  of  all  these  diverse  elements  the  moral  con- 
science is  gradually  formed,  which  means  to  say  that  good 
intention  and  the  moral  sentiment  are  added  to  the  moral 
habits  at  first  acquired.  A  child  may  have  been  trained 
more  or  less  easily  or  completely  according  to  the  innate 
dispositions  of  its  character  ;  but  at  this  point  it  is  still  in- 
capable of  managing  itself.  It  begins,  however,  to  reconsider 
its  impulsive  tendencies,  it  has  a  vague  sentiment  of  its  still 
very  hmited  liberty,  and  it  can  co-operate  in  the  guidance 
of  its  small  personaHty. 

What  touching  examples  we  see  even  in  little  children 
barely  two  years  old,  of  self-introspection  accompanied  by 
well-grounded  mistrust  of  themselves,  and  the  moral  pain 
of  meliora  video,  deteriora  seguor  !  The  daughter  of  L.  Terri> 
while  still  at  the  age  of  thorough  impulsiveness,  when  en- 
treated by  her  mother  to  be  good,  answered  more  than  once  : 
"  I  feel  that  I  cannot  be  good,"  thus  giving  proof  of  self- 
introspection  with  a  sense  of  her  weakness.  *'  At  five  years 
old,  having  one  day  been  praised  by  her  mother,  she  said  : 
*  To-morrow  I  should  like  to  please  you  still  more.  I 
should  like  to  be  always  good.      But  tell  me  why  I  can't 


294  THE   FIRST   THREE  YEARS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 

be  always  good.'  "  ^  It  must  not  be  supposed  that  even  at 
five  years  old  the  most  gifted  and  best-brought-up  children 
will  always  be  able  to  keep  at  this  relatively  high  level  of 
moral  sentiment.  Even  considerably  later  on,  they  will 
often  fall  back  below  what  they  may  have  been  or  seemed 
to  be  at  the  early  age  of  three  or  even  two  years.  The 
important  point  is,  that  at  so  tender  an  age  it  should  be 
possible  to  awaken  at  intervals  the  ever  fitful  light  of  moral 


*  Osservazioni  sopra  una  Bambina,  in  La  Filosofia  delle  Scuole 
Italiane,  Oct.  1881. 

^  For  further  development  of  this  subject  see  in  my  book  V Education 
dh  leBerceau,  chap,  vii.,  on  the  •*  Moral  Habits  and  the  Moral  Sense," 
from  page  265  to  300. 


The  End. 


.     \ 


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